In Love and War: The Clone War and Beyond
by Arwyn Whitesun
Summary: Having been expelled from the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan seeks to begin a new life on the eve of the start of the Clone Wars and the rise of the Empire.
1. Part One

TITLE: In Love and War: The Clone Wars and Beyond  
  
BY: Arwyn Whitesun  
  
SUMMARY: Having been expelled from the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan seeks to begin a new life on the eve of the start of the Clone Wars and the rise of the Empire.  
  
DISCLAIMER: The Great Flanneled One created Obi-Wan, Anakin and Yoda, et al. The rest belong to me. Not making any money on this fic, but feedback can and will be accepted in lieu of payment. :)  
  
NOTE: This fic is a sequel to "First Knight" and "Stars in the Darkness" . You can find those fics in my bio. For those who do not wish to read the entire stories, but would like to know what happened, the following synopses are provided.  
  
_SYNOPSIS OF EVENTS FROM "FIRST KNIGHT": When Obi-Wan Kenobi and his teen- aged apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, are sent to Ahjane to negotiate a peace accord between warring provinces, as a condition of the accord, a marriage is arranged between Onara, the only child of Dynast K'lia, leader of one province, and Dynast Edress, the leader of the other.  
  
A much older man, Edress is only interested in marrying Onara for her dowry. Meanwhile, as part of an ancient and time-honored ritual, Obi-Wan is asked to bless the marriage of Onara and Edress by spending the night with her. Reluctantly, the Jedi Knight agrees to do so, but as a result, falls in love with Onara.  
  
Unbeknownst to Onara or Obi-Wan, however, Onara's grandmother, the formidable and ambitious Lady Tsara, who longs to have a heir for her province who would possess the power of a Jedi, sees that Onara becomes pregnant from the ritual by ensuring she does not receive the prescribed conception inhibitor. As a result, Onara falls deathly ill from the high midi-chlorian count of the child she carries.  
  
Obi-Wan, learning of Onara's illness, goes on a desperate, and nearly hopeless quest to find an insane, ex-Jedi Healer named Sinja-Bau. Meanwhile, Lady Tsara, who has been banished for her schemes, is visited by Count Dooku at the behest of Lord Sidious. Although he does not participate actively in her plans to get her hands on her grandson, named Ben Gavon Kenobi, he does give her some assistance. Tsara has Onara's husband, Edress, murdered and puts in his place a man who is more than willing to do her bidding.  
  
As Obi-Wan travels far beyond the borders of the Republic to the distant ice planet of Toola to find Sinja-Bau, Lady Tsara hires a cadre of merciless, trained assassins called the Red Tide to kill her own son, Dynast K'lia and kidnap her grandson, Onara and Obi-Wan's child, Ben. Obi- Wan, meanwhile, finds Sinja-Bau and, although still gripped by her madness, agrees to come with him and try to cure Onara, who is rapidly slipping away.  
  
The Red Tide attacks Dynast K'lia's manor, killing him and a Jedi Healer by the name of Master Eo, Sinja-Bau's former apprentice, who was helping Anakin guard Onara and Ben. Anakin succeeds in defeating most of the Red Tide, killing one of their members, a youth named Rhad, but Tsara is able to escape with the baby. Anakin pursues her and, when Tsara tries to kill him, he kills her instead, rescuing Ben, who is unharmed in the process.  
  
Obi-Wan arrives with Sinja-Bau and she, upon looking upon the dead body of her former apprentice is cured of her madness by the Force and is also given back her power to access the Force, it having been stripped from her by the Jedi Council before she was expelled from the Order. She then successfully cures Onara of her illness. But, the reunion between Onara and Obi-Wan is brief and bittersweet.  
  
He and Anakin are summoned to Coruscant, where Obi-Wan is reprimanded for his behavior by the Jedi Council. He is sent on retreat, to a Jedi Chapterhouse on the distant water world of Bestine, where he is instructed to find his way back to the Jedi path. Anakin is given, temporarily, to another master.  
  
Onara, meanwhile, at the behest of both her people and Obi-Wan, marries Dalan, her deceased husband's nephew, now Dynast of his province. Obi-Wan asks Onara not to tell Ben about him, for he does not want him confused about who his real father is but, at the end of the story, Onara, now married to Dalan, begins to tell her infant son stories about his father. His real father. Obi-Wan Kenobi.  
  
SYNOPSIS OF EVENTS FROM "STARS IN THE DARKNESS": Now a Senator, Onara travels to Coruscant to take up her new duties. Obi-Wan, having completed his retreat, is reunited with Anakin, but his love for Onara and his son have not diminished. Reunited on Coruscant, he and Onara barely avoid scandal as the result of a malicious gossip-monger who spreads lies on the HoloNet about their having an affair, but Onara, along with Anakin, confronts the gossip-monger and forces him to retract his statement. However, once again, Obi-Wan finds himself before the Council and he and Anakin are sent away from Coruscant on a series of harrowing missions.  
  
Meanwhile, Onara's husband, who is still back on Ahjane with their son, becomes friends with an Ahjane businessman named Lursan. However, Dalan does not know that Lursan is the former leader of the Red Tide, seeking revenge against Obi-Wan and Anakin for the death of his son in the kidnapping attempt of Ben commissioned by Lady Tsara. Through subtle, but persuasive means, Lursan worms his way into Dalan's confidence, encouraging him not only to drink heavily, but also in his growing jealousy of Obi-Wan.  
  
Longing to see her son, Onara asks that Dalan bring him to Coruscant, but Dalan, his jealousy of Obi-Wan at a fever pitch, refuses until Onara finally demands that he does. The reunion between Onara and Ben is a joyful one. Sinja-Bau also accompanies Dalan and Ben, along with Lursan, whom Sinja-Bau is suspicious of, but has no concrete evidence to confirm her uneasiness about him.  
  
Lursan is contacted by Count Dooku, who has, at Lord Sidious' request, kept an eye on Onara and her family. He gives Lursan a drug that will make Dalan more amenable to his suggestions. As a result, Lursan is able to encourage Dalan to seek Obi-Wan's death. Lursan also contracts with a Senator Gillom who is about to fall under the scrutiny of the Senate's Ethics Committee, a committee that Onara is a member of.  
  
Dalan and Onara fight constantly once he is on Coruscant, his jealousy and anger fueled by the drug Lursan slips into his drink. After one particularly heated argument between her and her husband, Onara asks Sinja- Bau to take Ben to the Temple to visit it, unaware that, as a result of an injury suffered on a mission, Obi-Wan has returned to the Temple.  
  
Obi-Wan finally meets his son and he is not only proud of the bright, handsome child, but feels a deep longing to be a father to him. During his visit Ben lets slip to Obi-Wan that Onara and Dalan have been fighting, and, concerned about her, he asks Onara to meet with him.  
  
She does, but Dalan, who is now almost insane with his drug-induced jealousy, confronts her when she comes home, accusing her of being unfaithful. Onara defends herself, because, in truth, although she and Obi- Wan did kiss, they also decided it was best not to see each other again. Not believing her, Dalan attacks Onara just as Sinja-Bau returns from having taken Ben on an excursion. She in turn attacks Dalan, throwing him against the wall, having called on the dark side to do so.  
  
Onara tells Dalan to leave, which he does, going to stay at Lursan's. The following morning Sinja-Bau, disturbed by what she did, visits Yoda at the Jedi Temple. Onara, to take Ben's mind off the fight he witnessed, takes him to an amusement complex. Lursan, having decided to exact his revenge, follows them. Dalan wakes up from his hangover at Lursan's penthouse and discovers, when Senator Gillom inadvertently tells him, that Lursan is actually after Onara and Ben, not Obi-Wan.  
  
Dalan frantically contacts Obi-Wan, asking him to protect Onara and Ben. Obi-Wan and Anakin race to the amusement complex, but are too late. Onara has been stabbed and Ben shot with a blaster. Lursan escapes, but is soon captured. Obi-Wan, faced with the choice of turning to the dark side or bringing his son's spirit back from the Abyss, chooses not to turn. As a result, Ben is lost forever. Consumed with despair, Obi-Wan rejects the Force.  
  
Onara, who has survived her stab wounds, is told by Obi-Wan that their son is dead and that he chose not to bring him back, not wanting to taint their child with the dark side, but Onara doesn't care. She attacks him, screaming out for her son. Then, unable to bear either the loss of her beloved child or what she perceives as Obi-Wan's betrayal, she sinks into the _yanol_, the grief unending, a state of suspended animation where she can hide from her anguish. Dalan, now contrite, asks Obi-Wan's forgiveness, which the Jedi gives him, and makes a vow to care for Onara and make up for what he did to her.  
  
Lursan is released after Dalan, who was the only person who could tie Lursan to the death of Ben, the attack on Onara, and to Senator Gillom, who hired Lursan to kill Onara, dies in what appears to be an air-taxi accident, but was actually an assassination ordered by Senator Gillom. Obi- Wan knows that as long as Lursan is free, Onara will never be safe. He goes to see Lursan and discovers he was the leader of the Red Tide and is seeking revenge for the death of his son, Rhad, by Anakin. Since Anakin had no son, Lursan exacted his revenge by taking Obi-Wan's.  
  
Despite his overwhelming desire to kill the murderer of his son, Obi-Wan is unable to do so. But he warns Lursan to stay away from Onara. He leaves Lursan alive, but, soon after, Lursan is killed by Count Dooku who was hiding in the apartment. However, the authorities think it was Obi-Wan and arrest him.  
  
Obi-Wan confesses, having thought, initially, that it was Anakin who killed Lursan and wanting to protect him. Later, when he finds out it wasn't Anakin, Obi-Wan refuses to retract his confession. He longer wishes to be a Jedi, his grief over the death of his son and the loss of Onara's love having proved more than he can bear. While waiting for the Council's decision, Auna and Zaka, Obi-Wan's companions while on his search for Sinja- Bau, show up in support of him.  
  
Obi-Wan is expelled from the Jedi Order. Anakin is assigned to a new master, a stricter, more conventional Jedi named Chereg Nygee. Sinja-Bau, now reinstated in the Order, remains at the Temple as a Jedi Master Healer. Obi-Wan, no longer a Jedi, along with Zaka and Auna, takes Onara and the bodies of Ben and Dalan back to Ahjane. While in transit to Onara's homeworld, Obi-Wan fulfills his promise to Ben and constructs a miniature lightsaber, which he will bury with his son.  
  
As he approaches Ahjane, Obi-Wan, certain that once Onara comes out of her _yanol_, she will never want to see him again, reflects on his new life._  
  
-----------------------  
  
In Love and War - Part One  
  
"Auna must not do this."  
  
Auna angrily waved her four arms at Zaka. The big golden-furred Whiphid, his hairless face, with its two large tusks, creased with worry, struggled to keep up with her quick, determined steps as she stalked down the wide corridor of Onara's manor.  
  
"I don't care if Auna must not do this," she snapped at him. "I'm going to do it. Somebody has to do it. It might as well be me."  
  
"The Je-di will not like it."  
  
Auna shook her head. "Don't care if Master Kenobi don't like it. It's gotta be done. The poor wee one and Onara's husband have been lying in those stasis coffins for two weeks now, while everybody tiptoes around with their long, sad faces, knowing it's long past time the two should have been buried, but too timid to say anything about it."  
  
"But the Je-di wants to wait until the sleeping one wakes before he puts them in the ground."  
  
Auna turned a corner, striding past two servants who were dusting tables and vases along the walls of the corridor. They looked at her and Zaka as they passed, and, although the servants had grown used to the strange appearance of the four-armed Codru-Ji woman and her beastly looking companion, they still drew stares.  
  
Auna gave the servants a sharp, quick frown. The two, a young woman and an older man, jerked their heads down and went back to their dusting. Once Auna was past them, she shot Zaka a hard look, lowering her voice so as not to be heard by the servants.  
  
"That's the problem, Zaka. Onara could stay in this _yaball_ or _yasall_ or whatever ya wants to call it forever. Ya knows the doc says there's no telling when she'll come out of it. Meanwhile, the wee one and her husband lie unburied, and everybody's walking around like the horde of the living dead, and, worst of all, Master Kenobi looks like the king of the living dead, moping around with that sad-eyed look, not eating, not sleeping. It's gotta stop, I tells ya. And it's gotta stop now."  
  
"Zaka still think Auna must not do this. Zaka want no part of this. Je-di is Zaka's friend."  
  
Auna suddenly stopped and planted herself in front of the Whiphid. She put her two lower arms on her hips and prodded Zaka in his big, furry chest with the hand of one of her upper arms.  
  
"He's my friend too, you big oaf." She glared at him, her pointed ears twitching. Then she sighed. "That's why it's gotta be done. I can't stand seeing him like this. Ya don't have to have no part of it. Go back downstairs and keep Master Kenobi busy. I'll do it myself."  
  
Zaka shook his head in a warning fashion, but Auna ignored him and, putting her hands on his wide shoulders, turned him around and pushed him down the corridor. Zaka went down it, occasionally looking back at Auna and shaking his big furry head, but she brusquely gestured at him to keep walking.  
  
Once he was gone, she turned and proceeded down the hall to Onara's chamber. She stopped before the huge redwood and gold-inlaid door, collecting herself. Two weeks had passed since she, Zaka, and Master Kenobi had arrived on Ahjane, transporting Onara and the bodies of her and Obi- Wan's three year old son, Ben, who had been murdered on Coruscant, and her husband, Dynast Dalan Lenor, whom Onara did not even know was dead.  
  
Upon their arrival, Auna had been certain Obi-Wan was going to hold the funerals for his son and Dynast Lenor right away. But he had told Auna and Simtro, Onara's major-domo, that he wanted to wait until Onara came out of her _yanol_. No one had gainsaid him in his decision. Mainly because, with Dynast Lenor now dead and Onara unconscious, Obi-Wan, in the eyes of the servants, was now the head of Onara's estate.  
  
And what an estate, Auna thought, as she looked down the wide corridor and its rich furnishings. With her husband and son's death, Onara was now the sole heir of the provinces of both her deceased father and Dynast Lenor. In addition, during the almost four years of their marriage, Dalan had proven himself an astute businessman. He had not only increased both his and Onara's properties and assets, but had invested in a number of lucrative ventures and businesses. As a result, as Simtro had informed Obi-Wan, Onara was now one of the richest people on Ahjane. But, Auna suspected, Onara would gladly give up all her wealth to have her beloved Ben back, for she mourned his passing with a grief so deep she had, in effect, died to the world.  
  
Well, Auna thought, firming her chin and straightening her shoulders, she wasn't dead. She was still very much alive, though she lay in her bed like some spell-cursed princess from one of the fae-tales Auna's Mam used to tell her when she was still a wyrwulf. But no kisses brought Onara back, not even from the man who had given up everything to be with her.  
  
Obi-Wan, who had been expelled from the Jedi Order for having killed the murderer of his son, an action Auna, along with Zaka, had thoroughly approved of, had dragged himself around the manor these past two weeks, assisting Simtro with overseeing it and all of Onara's wealth and properties, of course, but basically keeping to himself the majority of the time.  
  
As silent and withdrawn as he'd become the longer Onara remained in her state of grief-induced coma, he too might as well have been in his own _yanol_. Those lovely blue-gray eyes of his were as dim and lifeless as a gray winter's morning. He had lost weight, and Auna knew that instead of sleeping he sat in Onara's chamber all night, watching over her, then appearing the following morning with dark circles under his eyes.  
  
It was all starting to get a bit out of hand, Auna had decided, and it had to stop. Obi-Wan and Onara's poor wee one was dead, that was true, and nothing could bring him back, but they were both still alive. It was time to bury the dead, resurrect Onara and give life back to those beautiful eyes of Master Kenobi. So, with that thought, Auna opened the door and walked into Onara's chamber.  
  
To be continued.... 


	2. Part Two

In Love and War - Part Two  
  
---------------  
  
Anakin grimaced as he recited the Fifth Codification of the Ninth Treatise on the Nature of the Force as written by the Venerable Jedi Master Iztwot Tul'mak. He struggled to keep the resentment out of his voice, but he was certain Master Nygee could hear it.  
  
He was standing at attention in Nygee's stark, austere quarters within the Jedi Temple, his arms folded tightly behind his back, his legs apart, his chin up in what Nygee had taught him was the proper stance when addressing one's master. It was evening, just after sunset, and Anakin could hear the bells chiming in the distance, signaling the start of the meditation hour. He was glad he wasn't required to meditate just now. The way he was feeling, he wasn't sure he could summon the proper amount of peace and serenity.  
  
Master Nygee, his pale yellow eyes regarding Anakin with a displeased look, the forehead of his bald, green-skinned head furrowed, sat in a chair facing Anakin. He had made his apprentice memorize the Fifth Codification, as discipline for his having argued with Nygee in front of others during a lightsaber practice.  
  
The subject of their dispute had been Nygee's discovery that Anakin was studying Form V of the seven forms of lightsaber combat. Each form represented a distinct approach or philosophy, and each had its particular strengths. Form V arose when the Jedi, called upon more and more down the centuries to actively maintain peace in the galaxy, felt the need for a more powerful form of lightsaber combat.  
  
Form V focused on strength and attack moves that allowed one to not only deflect a blaster bolt with a lightsaber's blade, but deliberately redirect it back towards an opponent. The maxim of Form V's philosophy was "peace through superior firepower." Master Nygee had expressed his disapproval of Anakin's allegiance to this more aggressive form, informing his new apprentice that Form V fostered an inappropriate focus on the domination of others.  
  
Anakin had countered by saying that Form V was a worthy discipline, that it prepared a Jedi for any possible threat, and, with the increasingly dangerous state of affairs in the Republic, such threats were becoming more commonplace. Obi-Wan had been fully aware that Anakin had taken up the study of Form V and, although warning Anakin to be careful not to focus on anger and aggression when using it, had not forbade him from studying it.  
  
Although Obi-Wan was familiar with Form V, he, his former master Qui-Gon, and Yoda had all been adherents of Form IV, which was the more acrobatic of the forms, emphasizing running, jumping and spinning. After the death of Qui-Gon, however, Obi-Wan took up Form III. He told Anakin Form IV had proven an insufficient defense against the Sith who killed his master. As a result, Obi-Wan had switched to Form III, a more highly refined expression of non-aggressive Jedi philosophy. It maximized defense over offense and was characterized by tight, efficient movements that exposed minimal target area.  
  
Anakin and Nygee's dispute had escalated to such a fevered pitch Master Luminara Unduli, who had been working out in the gymnasium, had had to step in between the two to calm the situation down.  
  
As a result of their argument, Master Nygee had ordered Anakin to memorize the codification to the treatise, which, upon reading, Anakin had discovered was a discourse on the dangers of indulging in passion and anger when wielding the Force. Although Anakin had taken exception to this, in his opinion, unjustified punishment, he had also been both fascinated and troubled by the writings of Venerable Master Tul'mak.  
  
Much of what Tul'mak had written was applicable, not only to Anakin, but to Obi-Wan. The Venerable Master had been especially zealous regarding Jedi avoiding any kind of romantic love, because he believed the passion such love engendered was a two-edged sword. Exhilarating, but dangerous. Especially to a Jedi. Romantic love was like fire, Tul'mak had written over a thousand years ago. It could warm and nurture, but it could also burn and destroy.  
  
Anakin finished the last line of his recitation. He looked at Master Nygee, waiting for his assessment of his efforts.  
  
"You memorized that very well, Padawan Skywalker," Nygee said, his voice too deep and low to come from such a narrow chest. Like all Nehaun, Nygee was very tall and thin, but he was a powerful Jedi. His slight form belied his true strength for he was a formidable opponent in battle, as Anakin had learned during their lightsaber practice duel.  
  
"Thank you, Master," Anakin said, bowing his head.  
  
"But, do you understand it?"  
  
"Understand it?"  
  
Nygee nodded, his yellow eyes boring into Anakin's.  
  
Anakin almost shrugged, but, instead, frowned. "I guess I do. Romantic love, sexual passion, anger, fear. All are dangerous to a Jedi. That appears to be the basic premise of the Ninth Treatise." A premise that, especially the part about romantic love being dangerous, Anakin did not entirely agree with.  
  
"Yes, quite dangerous," Nygee said, nodding sagely. He tilted his head. "A doctrine that, unfortunately, your former master failed to heed."  
  
Anakin felt a slow rage building inside him. For the past two weeks, since Anakin had been assigned to him as his apprentice, the Nehaun had seemed to go out of his way to criticize Obi-Wan in one way or another. If he wasn't condemning his behavior as it related to Onara, Nygee usually found something, often trivial and petty, regarding Obi-Wan's training of Anakin to find fault with. Anakin had struggled these past two weeks to hold his tongue, for he understood all too well that if he ever hoped to take the Trials in order to become a Jedi Knight, Nygee would now be the one to recommend he do so.  
  
"My master did what he thought was right," Anakin said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Yes, what he _thought_ was right, but not what was right." Nygee corrected him.  
  
Anakin was about to respond, but Nygee suddenly waved his long, thin hand. "You may go now, Padawan Skywalker."  
  
Anakin bowed, then turned, deliberately not saying good evening to Nygee, but he stopped when he heard the Nehaun's voice.  
  
"Make sure you meditate, Padawan Skywalker. I sense much anger in you."  
  
Really? How astute of you, Anakin sneered to himself as he nodded, his back still towards Nygee. He went out into the corridor and strode down it, his hands clenched. He'd only been Nygee's apprentice for two weeks, and the way the Nehaun seemed to constantly find something to criticize or censure him about, it could be months, even years, before Nygee recommended him for the Trials. How was he supposed to deal with his new master until then?  
  
Turning a corner, Anakin almost bumped into a padawan. He muttered an apology, not even looking at the padawan who hurried past him. Sith, but he missed Obi-Wan. As Anakin went into his quarters and plopped down on his meditation cushion, he hoped his former master was doing better than he was.  
  
To be continued..... 


	3. Part Three

In Love and War - Part Three  
  
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Obi-Wan ruffled his fur as he proceeded to munch down on his breakfast, which consisted of a number of beetles, bugs and grubs. Obi-Wan, the former Jedi, tilted his head as he watched the voorpak eat. Ben had warned him Onara hated to watch the voorpak eat, and Obi-Wan could see why. It was rather disgusting. He glanced over at Jiah, the buxom, gray-haired head cook who was eyeing him and the voorpak.  
  
He was in the manor's huge kitchen. Two weeks ago, when Obi-Wan had realized he needed to feed the voorpak, Simtro had told him that Jiah, in addition to being head cook, also tended the large gardens behind the manor, where not only flowers were grown but the vegetables she used in her meals. If anyone could get her hands on bugs and such for the voorpak, it would be her.  
  
And Jiah had been true to her reputation. Every morning Obi-Wan had come down to the kitchen and Jiah would have, sitting on the counter, a small basket full of bugs and grubs she had harvested out of her gardens. It had become something of a morning ritual for the two. Obi-Wan would greet her good morning. Jiah would nod, then gesture toward the basket full of grubs. Obi-Wan would pick up the basket, sit at the huge wooden table in the center of the kitchen and feed the voorpak.  
  
Jiah would then put a plateful of food in front of him. Obi-Wan would thank her for it, but only pick at the food. Jiah would frown at him for not eating, but Obi-Wan would pretend not to notice. Once the voorpak was done eating, Jiah would show Obi-Wan the menu she had planned for the day, he would tell her everything she wanted to prepare was fine, wish her a good day and, slipping the voorpak into the pocket of his tunic, leave the kitchen.  
  
This morning, a late spring morning which had dawned so bright and beautiful as Obi-Wan had stared out the windows of Onara's chamber it had nearly broken his heart, had begun no differently then any of the other mornings of the past two weeks. Well, that wasn't quite true, Obi-Wan thought as he rubbed his bare chin and jaw.  
  
While performing his morning toiletry, he had, on the spur of the moment, decided to shave off his beard. He had grown the beard several years ago, hoping it would make him look older, for he'd always looked younger than his actual age. Why he had decided to shave it off today, however, he couldn't exactly say.  
  
Jiah, upon seeing him beardless, had given him a quick double take, then a soft, knowing smile. But, other than that, this morning was proceeding as it had these past couple of weeks. The voorpak was munching happily on his bugs, Jiah had, as was her wont, tried to get Obi-Wan to eat, and he, as was his habit, had thanked her but, again, only picked at his food. However, their morning ritual was shattered by the appearance of Zaka in the kitchen.  
  
Jiah, like most of the servants, had initially found Zaka's appearance quite fearsome. The Whiphid was nearly two meters tall, heavily built, with a long hairless face from which two large tusks protruded. He had massive arms and three-fingered hands with razor-sharp claws. All he wore was a kind of loin cloth around his waist, but his feet were bare and his claws clicked on the parquet floor.  
  
But, over time, the servants had discovered Zaka was quite placid and even- tempered, and that, if there was anyone they should fear it was Auna, for the Codru-Ji woman had a quick, fiery temper, and was not at all reticent in giving anyone who irritated her a fierce tongue lashing.  
  
Jiah eyed Zaka as he shuffled over to the table where Obi-Wan was sitting. She had learned the Whiphid ate only meat and preferred it to be as raw as possible. She gave him a platter of freshly killed zalot as he passed by. Zaka thanked her, then shambled over to the table and sat down.  
  
"You're up early, Zaka," Obi-Wan remarked, watching as the Whiphid tore into the meat with relish.  
  
"Hard for Zaka to sleep this morning."  
  
"Bad dreams?"  
  
Zaka shook his head, and Obi-Wan was surprised to see his long black eyes darting back and forth. "Not bad dreams. No, not that." Then, before Obi- Wan could question him further, Zaka lowered his big head and peered down at the voorpak.  
  
"Little ball of fur eat lots."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, gazing fondly at the voorpak. He had adopted Ben's pet, having found some comfort in it. When it wasn't sleeping, which was most of the time, or wasn't in his pocket, it usually sat on the huge bloodwood desk in what used to be Dalan's study and trilled softly at him as he helped Simtro oversee Onara's affairs. The extent of her wealth, as a result of her inheritance of both her father's and Dalan's provinces, and the successes of Dalan's business ventures, was enormous.  
  
Obi-Wan had no experience whatsoever with business or commerce, but he did have a level head and he was able, he hoped, to help Simtro make the decisions that not only kept the manor and its staff running smoothly, but Onara's affairs as well. Once she recovered, she might desire to marry again. Obi-Wan wanted to be sure she had a solid foundation upon which to build such a marriage.  
  
In addition, there had been the stream of condolences that had come to the manor, expressing sorrow over the deaths of Ben, Dalan and Onara's condition. Obi-Wan, not knowing any of those who had sent the notes and flowers, had left all that to Simtro to deal with. As for the Ahjane Assembly's desire to present him with a medal, Obi-Wan had instructed Simtro to politely, but firmly, tell the Assembly he did not want it.  
  
Even if he had killed Lursan, Obi-Wan would not have wanted to be honored for it. During his years as a Jedi he had killed, but there had never been, as far as he was concerned, any honor or glory in it, no matter how much the person he had killed may have deserved it. A life was a life. Even a life as despicable as Lursan's had been.  
  
Obi-Wan the voorpak was done with his meal, as was Zaka. The Whiphid wiped his mouth with his large, furry hand, smacking his long, thin lips appreciatively. Jiah walked over and took away his empty platter, but when she saw Obi-Wan had not eaten, she shook her head.  
  
"Now, Master Kenobi, you ought not to be doing this. You must eat. You've lost at least a stone since you arrived. Hasn't he, Zaka?" she added, looking over at the Whiphid and trying to draw him in as an ally. Zaka nodded his large tusked head in agreement.  
  
Obi-Wan smiled. "I'm not hungry, Jiah. Really, I'm not. But, thank you."  
  
Jiah sighed heavily and, turning, took Obi-Wan's still full plate and Zaka's empty platter away.  
  
"Where's Auna?" Obi-Wan asked as he reached over and stroked the voorpak's soft fur. It blinked its large black eyes up at him and started trilling.  
  
"Auna?" Zaka shifted his big body nervously in his seat, suddenly preoccupied with looking at everything in the kitchen, from the two huge stoves, the rows and rows of gleaming copper pots and pans, the shelves bulging with spices and boxes of foodstuff, the large baskets full of vegetables. "Auna not here," he finally said.  
  
"I can see she's not here, Zaka. Where is she?"  
  
Zaka looked beseechingly over at Obi-Wan. "Zaka tell Auna not to do it. Tell her Je-di will not like it. But Auna never listen to poor Zaka." The Whiphid sorrowfully shook his head. "No, she never listen to him."  
  
"Tell Auna not to do what?" Obi-Wan asked.  
  
But, before Zaka could reply, Obi-Wan heard a scream. Jiah, who had been chopping vegetables, nearly sliced her finger open at the sound. Zaka's eyes, which were partially hidden by the epicanthic folds surrounding them, widened. And Obi-Wan, realizing it was Onara screaming, leapt from the table and ran out of the kitchen.  
  
To be continued.... 


	4. Part Four

In Love and War - Part Four  
  
-----------------  
  
As Auna walked into Onara's chambers, she saw it was still set up much as it been since their arrival on Ahjane. First she passed through a small, but cozily decorated sitting room in which some of the flowers that had been sent to the manor as condolences had been placed; then into the main chamber, which was large and spacious and beautifully decorated. There were huge windows all around it, through which bright morning sunlight streamed, and a set of glass doors Auna knew led out to the gardens.  
  
It was late spring in Onara's province, and the windows were open to catch the warm breeze. Along with the breeze, Auna could smell the heady scent of flowers and, most importantly, the delicate perfume of the honeyroses. Auna had noted they were blooming.  
  
Onara's bed, which, like her chamber, was huge was surrounded by a number of medical machines which monitored her condition and fed her nutrients. Next to the bed sat Onara's nurse, a young, fresh-faced woman named Malica. She was a good nurse and quite likeable, but Auna also considered her something of a knothead.  
  
Malica had been the only Ahjanese who, upon first meeting Auna and Zaka, had not wanted to bolt from their presence or make some kind of evil-eye sign against them. But, that was because Malica loved to read what Jiah, the cook, called her silly space romances.  
  
Auna had glanced through one of the books when Malica, thrilled by her having asked about them, gave her one to read. Titled _Star Pirate_, the book's cover had been garishly illustrated and featured some muscle-bound, dark-haired man, a blaster in one hand, his arm clasped tightly about the waist of a half-clad woman. Paging through the book, Auna had discovered it featured a great deal of lush, overly-wrought writing, much heaving of chests and breasts, a lot of deep, liquid sighs and, most of all, a lot of what the author had called aliens.  
  
As a result, Malica had not been as surprised at Auna's and Zaka's strange appearances as the other Ahjanese. Now, as Auna moved closer to Onara's bed she saw, as usual, the nurse was reading another one of her space romances. But, what else was there for her to do? She basically just had to keep an eye on the machines, bathe Onara, comb her hair, and exercise her arms and legs twice each day. In the evenings, Obi-Wan relieved her. Malica looked up from her book.  
  
"Good morning, Auna" she said, smiling widely, her dark eyes sparkling.  
  
"Morning," Auna said. "How's Onara?"  
  
Malica put her finger between the pages of her book to keep her place and sighed as she looked over at Onara. "Still the same, I'm afraid. It's such a pity."  
  
Auna rolled her eyes, for she knew what Malica was going to say. Auna came in to see Onara every morning, and, every morning, Malica would sigh dramatically and then start her litany.  
  
"Master Kenobi is so terribly handsome," Malica began as she gazed wistfully at Onara. "How could any woman not want to spend every day of her life with him? I know Lady Onara mourns the loss of her son." She turned and looked up at Auna. "I never met him, but the servants all say he was a happy, beautiful child."  
  
Auna nodded. She had heard the same thing. All the servants missed Ben terribly, and, even now, two weeks since their arrival, she would still come across one of them weeping at his loss.  
  
"But, to have won the love of a Jedi Knight," Malica went on breathlessly, clutching her book to her chest. "And such a brave and handsome one, too. He slew the leader of the Red Tide, and he loves her so deeply. How can she stand to be apart from him?"  
  
Auna shrugged, which usually never failed to unnerve most of the servants, since she had, in effect, two pairs of shoulders. Malica asked Auna the same question every day, and Auna could no more answer it now than she could any other day. But she had wondered the same thing.  
  
Having spent the time she came to see Onara carefully observing her, Auna had come to the conclusion that Onara was, on some level, aware of what was going on around her. There had been barely discernable signs that Auna had noted. Living the kind of life she did where she often, in a millisecond, had to determine by the most subtle of facial expression or body language whether someone could be trusted or not, the Codru-Ji woman had observed tiny, minuscule movements of Onara's eyelids and face which she assumed even Obi-Wan had missed.  
  
But Auna had not shared her suspicions with Obi-Wan and had only revealed them to Zaka last night. He had warned her not to do what she was about to do, but Auna was determined. Onara was hiding, that much was obvious, but not just from the grief of Ben's passing. Something had happened between her and Obi-Wan. The guilt the Jedi was carrying was just too palpable. Auna didn't know what it was he had done to Onara, but whatever it was, he didn't deserve to be left alone to grieve over the loss of their son.  
  
"Malica."  
  
"Yes, Auna?" Malica's nose was once again in her book.  
  
"Did ya know the honeyroses are blooming?"  
  
Malica lowered the book and looked up at Auna. "Really?"  
  
Auna nodded. "I saw them this morning. Ya should go look at them."  
  
Malica looked over at Onara. "Do you think Master Kenobi will mind?"  
  
"Nah, he knows yar doing a good job. Go on, I'll watch over Onara for ya."  
  
Malica smiled and, rising from the chair, placed her book on a table, but Auna picked it up.  
  
"Take yar book with ya. If you go down the path, yar find a nice sitting place and there's a bunch of honeyroses down there. Ya can do some reading and enjoy the lovely morning."  
  
"Oh, all right." Malica took the book from Auna's hand. "Thank you, Auna."  
  
"Yar welcome, and if I need ya, I'll be sure to come get ya."  
  
Malica thanked Auna again. She walked through the glass doors of the chamber and out into the gardens. Auna watched her until she was out of sight. Then she looked over at Onara. She lay on the bed, her long dark hair strewn across the pillows, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted. But, as Auna leaned closer, she saw a tiny twitch along one of Onara's eyelids.  
  
"All right, milady, it's time for this to end. Up with ya now."  
  
Auna took Onara by the shoulders, and, raising her a bit off the bed, gently, but firmly shook her.  
  
"Wake up, milady, cause I know ya can hear me," Auna went on, her voice firm, no-nonsense, and much louder than the whispers and low voices everyone else used around Onara. "Ya slept long enough. I know ya misses yar wee one, and it's a terrible burden ya have to bear, but he's dead and he's gone, and all this hiding inside yar head ain't going to bring him back."  
  
Onara moaned softly. Auna's eyes widened at the sound.  
  
"And I know it hurts," she went on, her voice louder and more determined now that she'd gotten a response out of Onara. "I can't even imagine how much it hurts. No parent should ever have to outlive a wee one, but it happens. But now, ya got to come back. Because yar still alive, and Master Kenobi is still alive, and he's grieving too, but he can't hide like ya have, because he's got to take care of ya. He's got to wake up every morning with the pain of losing not only Ben but ya still fresh in his heart. But, milady, he's doing it alone. They kicked him out of the Jedi. Did ya know that? Cause he killed that murdering scum which took yar wee one from ya."  
  
Onara's eyelids fluttered and Auna felt her twisting slightly in her hands where she held her by the shoulders.  
  
"Yeah, they kicked him out," she continued, talking louder. "And he's here with ya on Ahjane. Yar all he's got now, and he don't even have that. And it's killing him. Oh, not all at once. But little by little he's dying inside. The longer ya stay like this, the more he dies inside. I know ya ain't just hiding from yar grief over yar wee one's death. Yar angry at Master Kenobi about something, aren't ya? Well, I know Master Kenobi, and whatever he did, either he did what he had to do, or he did what he needed to do, but whatever it was he don't deserve this. To be so alone."  
  
Auna shook Onara, but harder this time and she shouted. "So, ya listen to me, milady. Ya wakes up and ya wakes up right now!" She shook Onara again. "Master Kenobi, he needs ya! He needs ya to be strong for him, just like he's being strong for ya. He loves ya so much. So ya come back, or yar going to lose him. Just like ya lost yar wee one."  
  
Onara was now trembling wildly. Then, when her eyes suddenly opened, Auna gasped. Onara stared up at her for a moment, then screamed.  
  
"That's it," Auna cried, holding Onara tightly by the shoulders as she stared to sob. "Let it out, milady, let it out."  
  
"Ben, Ben, oh my baby, my sweet baby!" Onara fell back on the bed, tears streaming down her face.  
  
"What are you doing to her?" a voice roared from behind Auna.  
  
Auna released Onara's shoulders. She turned and saw Obi-Wan running towards her, his blue-gray eyes blazing. He grabbed Auna's arm and jerked her away from the bed. Then, when he saw Onara was awake, he stopped and stared at her. Onara looked up at him, her dark eyes swimming with tears.  
  
"Obi-Wan," she whispered, reaching out to him. "Oh, my dear one. Forgive me, forgive me."  
  
Obi-Wan walked over and slowly sat on the side of the bed. He took Onara's hand, cupping her face with the other one, stroking her wet cheeks, gazing down at her with disbelief and wonder in his eyes.  
  
"Onara?" he asked softly. "Onara?"  
  
"Forgive me, Obi-Wan, please forgive me." She threw herself, sobbing, into his arms.  
  
"Onara! Thank the Ancients!" Obi-Wan put his arms around her and held her tight as he frantically kissed her tear-stained face. "No, love, no," he cried. "Forgive me, forgive me."  
  
Auna turned when she heard footsteps coming down the hall. Simtro, along with a half dozen servants, entered the chamber. But when they saw Onara was awake and in Obi-Wan's arms, Simtro quickly ushered the servants out. He looked over at Auna and she, with a last backward glance, followed him out of the chamber, closing the door gently behind her.  
  
To be continued.... 


	5. Part Five

In Love and War - Part Five  
  
-------------  
  
Obi-Wan still found it hard to believe Onara had retuned to him and, most miraculous of all, had forgiven him. Even now, as he held her close, felt her heart beating against his, reveled in the warmth of her body in his arms, it all seemed too good to be true. He pulled away and looked into her eyes. They were as dark and as beautiful and as full of love as they'd always been when she looked upon him.  
  
"How do you feel?" he asked, stroking her wet cheek.  
  
"Fine. I feel fine."  
  
"Not tired or weak?"  
  
Onara shook her head. "It just feels as if I've had a really long and restful sleep." Onara looked around her chamber at the machines surrounding her bed. "How long was I in the _yanol_?"  
  
"You were aware of what had happened?"  
  
Onara looked back at him, her eyes solemn. "Yes, I was aware. But it was as if I were in some kind of thick fog. I heard voices, but only dimly. I knew the way out, but I didn't want to take it, because I couldn't bear the pain of...." She stopped and lowered her head, biting her lip.  
  
Obi-Wan took her chin and gently lifted her face towards his, his eyes gazing deeply into hers. "I know, Onara. You don't have to say anymore. But, to answer your question, you were in the _yanol_ for almost a month. We've been on Ahjane for two weeks."  
  
"A month?" Onara stared at him in disbelief. "A month?" she repeated.  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "You said you heard voices while you were in the _yanol_. What kind of voices?"  
  
"I heard people talking, but their voices were always so soft, so far away. I could never hear what they were saying, though sometimes I sensed things. Painful things. Then, all of a sudden, I heard this woman's voice. It was strangely accented. And it was so loud. She was shouting at me, telling me to wake up, telling me...." Onara stopped and cupped Obi-Wan's face. "Telling me you were here and that you needed me."  
  
Obi-Wan turned his head and pressed his lips against her fingers. "She was right," he whispered as he kissed the palms of her hands.  
  
Then, gently, he told her everything that had happened since she had entered the _yanol_. He watched her carefully as he told her about Dalan's death. The shock on her face and the tears she wept made him fearful she would slip away again, so he held her close, whispering words of comfort to keep her with him. Once she was done weeping, he told her the rest, about Lursan's death and his expulsion from the Order.  
  
"But, Obi-Wan, why didn't you recant your confession?"  
  
"Why?" He sighed and, taking her hand, stroked her long, slender fingers. "Would you believe me if I told you I really don't know why? To be with you, yes, that was part of it. A great part of it. The fact I thought the Force had betrayed me, and I no longer wished to serve or follow its will was still another part."  
  
"But it was more, wasn't it?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "I should have killed Lursan. Just as I should have brought Ben's spirit----"  
  
Onara put her fingers against his mouth, stopping the rest of his words. "Speak no more of it, Obi-Wan. I was wrong to have blamed you. You are a Jedi. Yes, you are," she said firmly, when he shook his head at her. "You are a Jedi Knight, and you will always be a Jedi Knight. Whether you are part of the Order or not. You did what you thought was best. For us all."  
  
"But he was our son," Obi-Wan whispered, tears now falling down his cheeks. "I should have saved him. Given up the world, my soul, my life for him."  
  
Onara kissed his tears, then put her arms around his shoulders when he lowered his face onto her neck.  
  
"Yes, my darling, he was our son. But, please, you must stop blaming yourself. It wasn't you who killed Ben. It was Lursan. Not you. And I love you, Obi-Wan. I love you so much. I don't want to lose you, but if you don't stop beating yourself up like this, I will lose you. I'll lose the best parts of you."  
  
Obi-Wan wept in Onara's arms, his tears falling upon her neck, wept as he had longed to do from the moment Ben was lost to them. He let go of all the grief and all the pain he had held in for so long, and in her arms, as she eased his tormented soul with her gentle words of solace, running her fingers lovingly through his hair, he found the forgiveness and absolution he had sought. Finally, once his tears were spent, he slowly pulled away.  
  
Onara gazed tenderly up at him, smiling as she stroked his face. Then, a mischievous light suddenly sparkled in her dark eyes.  
  
He returned her smile. "What's is it? What's so funny?"  
  
"Your beard. You shaved it off."  
  
A corner of Obi-Wan's mouth quirked as he stroked his now clean-shaven jaw. "Umm, yes. This morning."  
  
Onara tilted her head. "I've never seen you without a beard."  
  
He suddenly felt nervous. "What do you think?"  
  
She studied him for a moment. "Well, you look much younger, but not as Jedi masterly, if you know what I mean."  
  
He frowned. "Is that good or bad?"  
  
Onara shrugged. Then leaning over, she kissed the cleft in his chin. "I never knew you had this with all that fur hiding it," she murmured, causing the bottom of Obi-Wan's stomach to drop when she kissed his chin again, her lips lingering longer this time.  
  
He laughed softly as she pulled away, delighted she had found it within herself, despite her grief, to tease him. Then they both feel silent for a long moment, their hands clasped tightly together.  
  
"Where are they?" Onara finally asked him in a small voice, flickering shadows having replaced the bright laughter that had been in her eyes.  
  
Obi-Wan tried to swallow, but his throat had thickened. "Downstairs. In stasis coffins."  
  
Pain twisted Onara's face and she grew paler. Obi-Wan gripped her hands.  
  
"I'm fine," she assured him. "Don't worry. I'll fine." She released a heavy breath. "You didn't...go ahead with the funerals?"  
  
Obi-Wan could still hear the pain in her voice, but now he sensed a layer of strength in it that hadn't been there before.  
  
"I wanted to wait for you," he told her.  
  
Onara looked over at him, her dark eyes full, her throat working. "Thank you," she whispered.  
  
Obi-Wan gently stroked her hair. "Simtro and I have made all the arrangements. We thought a small private ceremony, here at the manor, would be best."  
  
Onara nodded, her eyes locked on his. He searched them, making sure she was all right, then squeezed her hands and went on. "Then, if you're up to it, a memorial service in the capital, for the public and members of the Assembly."  
  
"It sounds fine, Obi-Wan." She closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep, cleansing breath. "I'd like to see them."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"But, first I want to see the woman who was here. The one who brought me back."  
  
"Auna?"  
  
Onara's eyes widened. "That was Auna? I should have guessed. Yes, I want to see her."  
  
Obi-Wan unhooked her from the machines and, putting his arm around her waist, helped her out of the bed, but he could see she was perfectly capable of standing on her feet.  
  
"I'm fine, Obi-Wan, really," she told him as he helped her over to the closet. She opened it and took out a peach-colored silk robe. "I'm not weak at all."  
  
"Are you hungry?"  
  
Onara tied the robe around her waist. She looked over at Obi-Wan, one dark brow arched. "Now that you mention it, I am. Quite hungry."  
  
"I'll have breakfast sent up."  
  
Onara shook her head. "I want to take a bath first, but, if I've been in this room for two weeks, I want to have breakfast someplace else."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. He could understand that. He walked over and hugged her. Onara nestled her face against his chest, her arms sliding about his waist.  
  
"I can't believe you're here," she whispered, holding him tight. "Will you stay?"  
  
"I've longed for this moment since that day I left you that first time after the blessing ceremony. Will I stay, you ask?" His breath was warm and soft against her hair as he held her tighter. "For as long as you want, my love. That's how long I'll stay."  
  
He felt her smile against his chest. "Then, Obi-Wan, I'm afraid you'll have to stay for quite some time because I want you to stay with me forever."  
  
She looked up at him, and, as Obi-Wan gazed down into the dark beauty of her eyes, he felt such a love for her at that moment, a love as eternal and infinite as the universe, it both exhilarated and frightened him. He had let her go twice before, had nearly lost her this time, but no more, he vowed as he lowered his head and kissed the tip of her nose, then her eyelids, and finally, her soft, warm mouth. He would not leave or lose her again.  
  
--------------  
  
"What Auna doing?"  
  
"What does it look like I'm doing," Auna snapped as she stuffed a pair of trousers into a travel bag, shooting an irritated glance at Zaka where he loomed in the door of her rooms. "I'm packing."  
  
"Zaka told Auna not to do it."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, so ya were right for once. Don't wear it out."  
  
She fastened the bag and, looking around, made sure she hadn't left anything.  
  
"Zaka coming with Auna."  
  
"Suit yarself," she said.  
  
Zaka nodded and left her rooms. Then, just as Auna was about to go out the door, Obi-Wan walked through it. He frowned when he saw her travel bag.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?"  
  
Auna shrugged, avoiding looking at him. "Not sure yet. Might try the Djarah Cluster."  
  
"Is that want you want? To leave?"  
  
Auna finally looked him in the eyes. "Isn't that what ya want? For me to leave? I would think ya would after what I did to yar lady love."  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head. He walked over and stood in front of her.  
  
"Auna, Auna, Auna," he said, smiling warmly as he took her upper arms and shook her gently. His blue-gray eyes, she saw, were now bright, with none of the dimness they'd had before. Plus, she noted, he had a rather attractive cleft in his chin which was visible now that he was beardless.  
  
"What am I going to do with you?" he went on, still smiling. "Auna, you did what I should have done, what we all should have done."  
  
"Then yar not angry at me?"  
  
"Angry at you? No, far from it. She's come back, and you were the one who brought her back and now she wants to thank you."  
  
Auna's violet eyes widened and her pointed ears twitched. "She does?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, smiling widely at her. He took her by the arm and led her out of her rooms to where Onara was waiting.  
  
To be continued.... 


	6. Part Six

In Love and War - Part Six  
  
---------------  
  
Onara clung to Obi-Wan's arm as they walked slowly down the wide corridor, her body shivering against his. The moment he had feared had finally arrived. It was early evening of the day Onara had awoken from her _yanol_. Although she had expressed a wish to see Ben and Dalan, Obi-Wan had sensed that as much as she wanted to see them, she also dreaded it.  
  
After her awakening, Onara had bathed, had breakfast, greeted Simtro and the other servants, then spent a few moments alone talking with Auna. When the Cordu-Ji woman left Onara's chamber, she had only smiled slyly at Obi- Wan as she passed him where he had been waiting outside.  
  
Then, Obi-Wan had had to spend at least an hour calming down Malica, Onara's nurse, who had convinced herself she had been negligent in her duties in having left Onara with Auna. Obi-Wan finally convinced her she had done nothing wrong. The only thing that mattered, he had told her, was Onara had recovered. He had then dismissed her, but not before sending her off with a glowing recommendation.  
  
The rest of the day had passed quickly with Obi-Wan unable to keep himself from Onara for any length of time, wanting to drink in her presence and convince himself she truly was with him and, most importantly, had forgiven him. But, now, as they approached the room in which Ben and Dalan's stasis coffins were housed, he wondered how long her forgiveness would last.  
  
The last time she had seen Ben and Dalan, she told Obi-Wan as they left her chamber, was when Ben had been running away as Lursan attacked her and when she, angrily, ordered Dalan to leave their apartment after their argument.  
  
"Not terribly happy memories to remember them by," she had sadly remarked, her voice full of tears.  
  
Obi-Wan's throat tightened as they drew closer to the room. He looked over at Onara. She was wearing a simple ivory gown, since white was the traditional color of mourning on Ahjane. Her dark hair was in a long braid which snaked down her back, a white ribbon interwoven among the ebony strands. She looked up at him, feeling his gaze on hers, and he could see she was aware of how much he was afraid that seeing the bodies of her son and husband would prove too much for her.  
  
Onara struggled to give him a reassuring smile, but her dark eyes betrayed her. They were full of pain and apprehension. Obi-Wan stopped walking and put his hands on her shoulders.  
  
"You don't have to do this, Onara."  
  
She shook her head. "I must, Obi-Wan. I want to see them. I have to see them."  
  
Obi-Wan released a deep breath. He took her arm again and led her towards the large double doors. Two male servants stood in front of them, also dressed in white. Now that Onara had awaken, the official week of mourning had begun and everyone, including Obi-Wan, wore white or a white armband if duties about the manor made wearing white a difficulty. The two servants standing honor guard before the doors were both elderly, but hale of spirit and body, and had served Onara's family for years. Therefore they had been given this place of honor. They bowed deeply.  
  
"Milady," both said.  
  
Onara nodded at them, but Obi-Wan could see she found it difficult to speak. The servants opened the doors. She hesitated, and Obi-Wan was tempted to take her away, but he felt her move forward and he, pressing her arm against his side, accompanied her.  
  
The room in which the stasis coffins lay was one of two large drawing rooms on the ground floor. Inside were dozens and dozens of gold and silver candle-holders and the candles, their orange-yellow flames flickering among the soft shadows in the room, were the only source of illumination.  
  
Obi-Wan, while Onara was unconscious, had come into this room every day, so he was quite familiar with it. The old paintings, the ornate, antique furniture, the huge, wide windows over which heavy, violet drapes had been drawn. And the stasis coffins.  
  
Both lay in the center of the room, one large, one considerably smaller. Onara drew in a hard, sharp breath. Obi-Wan put his arm around her shoulders. She was trembling now. He gripped her tighter and slowly led her over to the coffins, but he let her guide him as to which one she wanted to go to first. She moved towards Ben's.  
  
The stasis coffins were both made of durasteel. Inside was a stasis field that prevented decomposition. On the side of the coffins were small control pads that activated and maintained the stasis fields and raised and lowered the lids. Onara stopped before Ben's small coffin. She gazed down at it, her face so pale and still she looked like a ghostly, but beautiful statute.  
  
"It's ugly," she said, her voice so low Obi-Wan could barely hear her.  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "It's only temporary. We'll transfer them to the ones Simtro and I purchased for the funeral."  
  
Onara reached out with a hand that visibly shook. She placed it on the top of the coffin. "It's cold, so cold," and her voice broke.  
  
Obi-Wan placed his hand over hers. Her hand was now as cold as the coffin lid.  
  
"I want to see him."  
  
"Onara, perhaps it would be best if you---"  
  
"I want to see him, Obi-Wan." She turned and looked up at him, her dark eyes beseeching him. "Please."  
  
Obi-Wan stared down at her, the fear like a fist around his heart. What would happen when she finally looked upon the face of her dead child, but he also knew she had a right to see Ben. He could not deny her that. He nodded and removed his hand from hers. Pressing the buttons on the control pad, he deactivated the stasis field. Once it was off, he pressed the control that opened the coffin. The lid slowly rose. Obi-Wan's stomach clenched, waves of pain pulsing through him as he looked upon the body of his son. Next to him, Onara gasped.  
  
He quickly put his arm around her shoulder. She reached down, her trembling hand slowly moving towards Ben's face. Then, just as the tips of her fingers touched his cheek, she collapsed and fell on her knees, weeping beside the coffin.  
  
"Oh, gods, no, no, I can't! I can't!"  
  
Obi-Wan knelt down and drew Onara into his arms. Deep, shuddering sobs racked her body. He held her tighter, his own eyes filling with tears.  
  
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, I'm sorry," she wept against his chest. "I can't live without him. I can't!"  
  
"Please, Onara," he begged her. "You must live, you must."  
  
"I don't want to live! Not without Ben! Not without my darling."  
  
Obi-Wan stroked her hair, his lips moving across her cheeks. "I know, love. I know."  
  
Onara continued to weep uncontrollably, her hands, where they were clasped on his back, fisting his tunic, her tears soaking the fabric, and Obi-Wan feared, once again, he was going to lose her. What mother could bear the loss of a beloved child, and what could he possibly give her that would replace what she had lost? He didn't know, and, feeling himself sinking into despair in the face of his helplessness, he instinctively reached out to the Force.  
  
He had not called upon the Force since the day he had constructed Ben's lightsaber. But he called upon it now, as he had done countless times in his life. He called upon it the way a child calls upon a parent to wipe away his tears, the way a supplicant calls upon a deity to take away his doubts, the way the earth calls upon the sun to nurture it and help bring forth life. Obi-Wan called upon the Force with all the love he had for Onara, for Ben, and for everyone who had ever touched his life, and he channeled the Force to Onara, the way he had done that day in the holo- arboretum.  
  
He wrapped the Force around her, filled her up with it, poured it into her; the warmth and the cold, the darkness and the light, the fire and the ice, the pain and the joy. He opened himself to the Force and gave its power and its warmth to her, let her see that as much as he too mourned Ben's passing, as much as he understood and shared her grief, he wanted her to live, he needed her to live. Not just for him, but for Ben. As long as they both lived, Ben would never truly be dead, for he had been the sum total of their love for each other. And, finally, he shared with her through the Force the vision of that little girl he'd had some months back. The girl he believed was their daughter.  
  
Onara drew away from him and looked up at him, her eyes, through their tears, full of wonder.  
  
"Our daughter?" she whispered.  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, taking her hand and gripping it tightly. "Don't leave me, Onara, please, don't leave me."  
  
She stared at him for a long moment. "I won't," she finally said. "I promise I won't leave you."  
  
Obi-Wan helped her to her feet. Keeping his arm around her, he watched as she leaned over and kissed Ben's forehead.  
  
"Sleep well, my darling one. We'll meet again. I know we will."  
  
She rose, gently stroking Ben's dark hair. Then she turned and looked over at Obi-Wan. "You...you can close it now."  
  
Obi-Wan did so, watching as the lid slowly lowered. He reactivated the stasis field. Then he looked at Onara. She was staring at Dalan's coffin. She walked towards it, Obi-Wan beside her. Placing her hands on it, she lowered her head and closed her eyes.  
  
"Forgive me, Dalan," she whispered. "And know I also forgive you."  
  
"It wasn't his fault, Onara, the things he did and said."  
  
"It wasn't?"  
  
"After the accident, an autopsy was performed. A drug was discovered in Dalan's body. A drug that was later identified as having the ability to change a person's personality, make him or her more amenable to suggestions and suspicions. Lursan was giving it to him. The drug was found in his penthouse. He was probably slipping it into Dalan's drinks."  
  
Onara slowly nodded. "That would explain a lot. Lursan had given Dalan a bottle of brandy as a gift. He'd been drinking from it the day...I last saw him."  
  
"But he was himself again, Onara. Just as he was when the two of you first married. He was going to take care of you, make up for what he'd done to you and Ben. He told me it didn't matter if you never loved him, he would always love you."  
  
Onara rubbed the top of the coffin. "I wanted to love him, Obi-Wan. I truly did. I tried so hard to love him the way he wanted to be loved."  
  
"I know you did."  
  
"Can I see him?"  
  
Obi-Wan released a heavy breath. He took Onara's hand and held it. "No, love. The accident." Obi-Wan stopped and shook his head. "Remember him the way he was."  
  
Onara looked at him, horror dimming her eyes. Then she slowly nodded. She leaned over and kissed the top of Dalan's coffin. "Goodbye, my husband. Sleep well."  
  
She stepped away from the coffin. Obi-Wan looked at her, the light from the candles flaring and dying in her eyes, casting her pale face, surrounded as it was by her midnight hair, in an ethereal glow that showed both the purity of her grief and the profundity of her love.  
  
"Obi-Wan?"  
  
"Yes, love?"  
  
"I swear to you that never again will I allow anyone to bring harm to a child of mine. No matter what I have to do, no matter what I have to become, no one will ever harm another child of mine again. Will you witness this vow?"  
  
"I witness it."  
  
Onara stared at him, her dark eyes shimmering among the candlelit shadows of the room, then she moved quickly into his arms and he held her, letting her weep once more. He wrapped her this time, not in the power of the Force, but only in his love, which was just as deep and just as great.  
  
-----------  
  
"You made this?" Onara whispered.  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. It was later that night. Obi-Wan had his own chamber in the manor, but had stopped by to say goodnight to Onara and to make sure she was all right. The funerals were scheduled for tomorrow, and, though both knew it would be difficult to sleep, it was important they be as rested as possible. Onara was in her bed. Obi-Wan sat on the side of it.  
  
She slowly ran her fingers over the tiny lightsaber. "Oh, Obi-Wan, it's beautiful."  
  
"I had promised him one. One like mine. "  
  
Onara looked up at him, her dark eyes questioning. "What did he say to you? Please, tell me everything he said."  
  
Obi-Wan told her about his and Ben's last conversation. He left nothing out, not even Ben's observation that Onara could not stand watching his pet voorpak eat.  
  
He was surprised when Onara suddenly laughed, even though tears shimmered in her eyes. "Oh, he was right. My darling was so right. I hated watching that creature eat." She reached over and took Obi-Wan's hand. "I'm so glad you've adopted Ben's pet. It would make him so very happy to know you have."  
  
"And the lightsaber?" he asked, needing to know he had done the right thing in constructing it.  
  
Onara held the lightsaber in her hands, staring down at it. She said nothing for a long moment, then raised her head and gazed tenderly at him.  
  
"I know you loved Ben, Obi-Wan, as much as I did, even though you didn't have the chance to be with him as I had. To watch him grow up, to hear his first words or see him take his first step. But this," and she held Ben's lightsaber close to her heart. "Oh, Obi-Wan, it's a wonderful gesture. Ben wanted a lightsaber so much. Yes, this would make him just as happy too."  
  
Onara reached over and hugged him and, as Obi-Wan held her, he was painfully aware, now that she was no longer in her _yanol_, that being in her chambers at night suggested an intimacy it was best they both avoided for the present. Although Onara was now a widow, Ahjane society was quite traditional, and Obi-Wan wanted to avoid any possibility of charges of impropriety being leveled against her. He knew her servants were loyal, but they were also human and, therefore, inclined to gossip.  
  
He gently pulled away from her. She was in her bed, her long dark hair flowing across her nightgown. Only one small glowlamp illuminated the room, and the windows of the chamber, which were still open to catch the warm night air, brought in the heady scent of honeyroses, bringing back to Obi- Wan heated memories of the only time he and Onara had been intimate. The night of the blessing ceremony.  
  
He looked into her eyes and saw his desire for her reflected in their dark beauty. It would be so easy, he thought. They were alone in her chamber, both free now, he from the Jedi, she from her marriage, both needy for the nearness of another human being and the comfort of a warm body in the approaching hours of the long night. But, even as Obi-Wan longed to take Onara in his arms and lay in her sweet-smelling bed until the sun rose, he also wanted more.  
  
He wanted her to be his wife when next he made love to her.  
  
"I'd better go," he said, moving away from her bed. "We have to get up early tomorrow."  
  
He saw the disappointment in her eyes, then she nodded.  
  
"May I keep the lightsaber with me until tomorrow?"  
  
"Of course," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Good night, love."  
  
"Good night, my darling."  
  
He waited until she placed the lightsaber on the table next to her bed and pulled the covers up over her. He smiled at her, then turned off the glowlamp.  
  
Moving out of her darkened chamber, through the sitting room and out into the corridor, he closed the door behind him, leaning against it. His wife. Would she even agree to such a thing if he ever found the courage to ask her? She'd already been married twice, and widowed both times. Maybe she no longer wished to be married. Or, perhaps the Assembly would want her to marry someone else for the same political reasons she had married Dalan. And, she was now a very wealthy woman. He had nothing to bring to a marriage, penniless as he was.  
  
He closed his eyes. There was, of course, the vision of the child, the little girl he sensed was his and Onara's daughter, but his visions had also been wrong. While on his search for Sinja-Bau he'd had visions of Ben as a young man, the two of them fighting side by side in a war. But, Ben was now dead, and he would never grow up to be that brave young man. Perhaps Obi-Wan's vision of his and Onara's daughter was just as false.  
  
In addition, although he had been expelled from the Jedi Order, he was, as Onara had so wisely observed, still a Jedi. The Force still spoke to him, though now, if he chose to follow it, it would be at his own choosing and not governed by the dictates of the Jedi Council. Would it be right to ask Onara to be his wife, not knowing what destiny the Force still had planned for him? Obi-Wan sighed. Too many questions. First things first, he told himself. Tomorrow, he had to bury his son.  
  
He moved away from Onara's door and made his way towards his chamber.  
  
To be contniued... 


	7. Part Seven

Thanks everyone for your wonderful replies. Yes, I do seem to be on a roll, though I doubt I'll be able to keep up this daily posting for long, but we'll see what happens. :)  
  
In Love and War - Part Seven  
  
----------------  
  
"Be still will ya!"  
  
Zaka shook his head as Auna adjusted the ivory-colored tunic about his broad, furry chest. "Maybe Zaka should not go to ground-laying of Je-di's little flower and Nara's mate."  
  
Auna stopped her adjustment of the tunic, which one of the servants had made for Zaka to wear to the funeral, and sharply eyed him.  
  
"How many times I gotta tell ya, her name is Onara, not Nara."  
  
Zaka only blinked his long black eyes at her. The Whiphid had started calling Onara by her name once she had awaken, though he still continued to call Obi-Wan the Je-di. But, for some incomprehensible reason known only to his Whiphid brain, he addressed Onara as Nara. She didn't seem to mind, but it drove Auna crazy.  
  
"And yar going to the funeral. Obi-Wan asked us to go and we're going."  
  
"But Zaka not know Je-di's little flower or Nara's mate. Would not be...pro- per for Zaka to go."  
  
"Yar Obi-Wan's friend aren't ya?"  
  
Zaka nodded.  
  
"And ya likes Nara, I mean, Onara, don't ya?"  
  
"Zaka like Nara very much."  
  
"Well," Auna said as she finished adjusting the tunic and making sure the trousers Zaka wore fit properly, "that's good enough of a reason."  
  
"Zaka still not see why he have to wear all these skins." He looked dolefully down at the white tunic and pants that now covered him.  
  
"Because it wouldn't be _pro-per_ for ya to go to the funeral wearing only a loin cloth. Once it's over ya can go back to walking around half-naked."  
  
Zaka sighed, but nodded. Once Auna was satisfied, she went over to the mirror. She and Zaka were in her room, which was located on the first floor of the manor, adjacent to his. Both the rooms were quite large and, like the rest of the manor, beautifully decorated. The Ahjanese seemed to have a great love for beautiful things.  
  
The mirror Auna looked at herself in was made of silver, inlaid with small, precious jewels. She had estimated she could probably get about 10,000 credits for it, more if she didn't go through a fence. She shook her head as she stared at herself. She'd sooner cut off one of her four arms than rob Onara.  
  
Like everyone else attending the funeral, Auna wore white, but, instead of the form-fitting jumpsuits or tunic and pants she usually wore, Onara had given her a gown to wear. It had taken some doing by the manor's seamstress to adjust it to fit her four arms.  
  
But even Auna, who usually didn't care about such things, was amazed at how she looked in it. She'd never worn a dress before. It was made of some kind of soft, shimmering material that felt like raindrops on her skin. It was calf-length and showed off the white sandals she wore. Her dark hair, which she usually wore down, was pinned up and there were sprigs of a white flower called _lera_ in it. Onara had told her it was the traditional flower of mourning on Ahjane.  
  
"Are you ready, Auna?"  
  
Auna jumped and turned around. Obi-Wan was standing in the doorway. She blushed when she thought of him having seen her staring at herself in the mirror like some conceited knothead. He too wore white and Auna couldn't help noticing how handsome he looked. Especially since he was still clean- shaven. He looked much better without the beard, she had decided. His red- gold hair, with its distinct streaks of white at the temple, was still long however, curling softly about the collar of the ivory shirt he wore.  
  
"Yeah, we're ready, Master Kenobi."  
  
He walked over and took her hand. "You look lovely, Auna."  
  
"Really? Ya think so?" she asked, now blushing furiously.  
  
Obi-Wan nodded as he smiled at her. Auna's primary and secondary hearts thumped in her chest at that smile and the way his blue-gray eyes gazed into hers. She suddenly felt warm and quickly drew her hand away from his.  
  
"Ya ready, Zaka?" she groused, avoiding looking at Obi-Wan and trying to still the trip-hammering of her hearts. "I swear, but ya can be as slow as frozen lard in winter."  
  
Obi-Wan chuckled at Auna's observation, slapping Zaka companionably on his wide shoulder and advising him to not pay attention to her. The two then followed Obi-Wan out of her rooms and down the hall. They turned towards the huge foyer, went out the entrance and down a path that led to where Onara's family mausoleum was located.  
  
All the servants were already there, as was Onara who was standing next to Simtro talking with him. She wore a white gown, simple in design, but elegant. It was similar to the one Auna wore except Onara's gown was longer, the edge of it sweeping across the grass. Her dark hair was also up, with sprigs of the _lera_ flowers in it. Obi-Wan showed Auna and Zaka where to sit, then walked over to Onara and Simtro.  
  
As Auna sat down she watched Onara's face as Obi-Wan approached her. Whatever she had been discussing with Simtro had not been pleasant, for she was frowning, but, as soon as Obi-Wan came into her sight, her face and eyes transformed.  
  
Auna had thought Onara beautiful since the first time Obi-Wan had shown her that pendant with the holographic image of her and Ben inside it, back when he'd been searching for Sinja-Bau. But, now, as Onara took Obi-Wan's hands and he leaned down and kissed her cheek, Onara was not just beautiful, she was transcendent.  
  
It was as if each time Obi-Wan came into her presence she was reborn, like a new star blazing in the heavens. Since her awakening, the two were rarely out of the other's company, and, even when one was busy with something else, Auna had noted the way their eyes would search until they found the other.  
  
Auna swallowed hard as she threaded her fingers about the other. She envied them. Not the terrible tragedy they'd both had to share, of course, but the fact that, as a result, they'd found such a profound love, and, like that Enix bird she'd heard some drunken space tramp talking about one night in a bar, a bird who supposedly died in an inferno and then was reborn from the ashes, Onara and Obi-Wan had, out of the ashes of their grief over the death of their only child, discovered a love that had given them both the courage and the hope to go on with their lives. Yes, Auna envied them very much.  
  
Now she watched as an Ahjane priestess moved towards the front of the crowd gathered before the mausoleum. Ben and Dalan's coffins, not the stasis coffins they'd been transported in, but coffins made of beautiful blondwood and inlaid with gold, had already been interred inside the mausoleum. Only Onara and Obi-Wan, along with Simtro, had attended the actual internment which had been held at dawn.  
  
The priestess, her weathered face creased with a dried riverbed of wrinkles, her long, gray hair straggling down her white, gold-rimmed robe, began speaking in Ahjanese. Auna didn't understand the words, but she got the gist of the message and, soon, tears were streaming down her face. Zaka reached over and put his big furry paw over her hands where they lay on her lap. Jiah, who was sitting in front of Auna, turned around and handed her a handkerchief, the cook's eyes already red-rimmed from weeping.  
  
Soon everyone was weeping softly. Everyone, Auna noted, except Obi-Wan and Onara. The two sat, their hands clasped together, listening to the words of the priestess as she blessed the passing of Ben Gavon Kenobi Lenor and Dynast Dalan Lenor. Auna knew Obi-Wan and Onara preferred to express their grief in private, so she was not surprised to see them sitting so stoically now. The two sat apart from the servants because, according to tradition, they were supposed to be surrounded by family.  
  
Obi-Wan, however, had no family. He had been taken from them when he was a baby, with no clue or memory as to who they were. The Jedi Order had been his family, but he was no longer a member of it. Obi-Wan had invited Anakin and Sinja-Bau to the funeral, but the message he had sent to the Temple had come back with a rather terse response from the Council, expressing its heartfelt sorrow over the passing of Ben and Dynast Lenor, but informing Obi-Wan that Anakin and Sinja-Bau were too busy with duties that had been assigned to them by the Council and, therefore, could not attend.  
  
As for Onara's family, her mother died giving birth to her, her father was murdered nearly four years ago during the raid to kidnap Ben, and her grandmother, the infamous Lady Tsara, was killed by Anakin in self-defense. Onara's only remaining relatives, two elderly aunts, her father's twin sisters, had, upon learning of Ben's death, gone into seclusion at some far off monastery.  
  
Auna had thought it strange for them to have done so, seeing as how they were all the family Onara had left, but Obi-Wan had explained that, according to Ahjane traditions, it was not unusual for such a thing to occur. The great-aunts had loved Ben dearly, and his death had sent both into a kind of spiritual malaise. Not the _yanol_, but more like a self- imposed retirement from the world. The monastery, Obi-Wan had told her, was the best place for them and where they now wished to live out their lives.  
  
Auna still thought it strange, but had accepted Master Kenobi's explanation. As for Dalan's family, that was another matter entirely. His uncle, who had been Onara's first husband, was dead, as was Dalan's parents, but Dalan did have two uncles, an aunt and some cousins who, upon learning he had left everything to Onara and Ben in his will, had been furious. Now, with Ben's death, Onara was the sole heir to Dalan's province, his property and his wealth.  
  
Onara had invited Dalan's family to the funeral, but they had flatly refused. And, according to the gossip among the servants, were probably going to contest Dalan's will in the tribunals. Auna frowned, clenching her four hands into fists. She hadn't even met these people, but she already didn't like them.  
  
The priestess lowered her arms. Auna didn't know much about Ahjane religious belief, but, according to Jiah, they did believe in a Great Creator, as did many sentient beings in the galaxy, but the Ahjane Great Creator could take many different forms, depending upon the circumstances.  
  
During times of bereavement, the Great Creator became the goddess Sithara, who ruled over both birth and death. It was that deity the priestess now called upon for the final invocation, having switched to Basic. She asked Sithara to judge lightly the souls of Ben and Dalan, to welcome them into the House of Eternal Light and to give them solace and peace until such time as they were reunited with those who mourned their passing.  
  
Onara's head was lowered and Auna could see her lips moving as she prayed along with the priestess, but Obi-Wan stared straight ahead. Auna didn't know what the Jedi believed in. She knew about the Force, but it didn't seem to her that the Jedi believed in it the same way one believed in a deity.  
  
She just hoped that, whatever Obi-Wan's beliefs were, he found solace in them. Auna's people, the Codru-Ji, had about a hundred gods. Since Auna had had difficulty keeping track of them all, she had decided to believe in only one, Decoco, the trickster god of luck and good fortune.  
  
The priestess finished her invocation. Jiah rose from her seat and went and stood next to her. She looked over at Obi-Wan and Onara, inclining her gray- haired head. Then, for the next few moments, Auna was transported to a realm of such beauty and splendor it came close to breaking her hearts.  
  
Jiah sang a song in Ahjanese, the words of which were beyond Auna's comprehension, but the melody and the emotions Jiah expressed through the song, the Codru-Ji woman understood all too well.  
  
The song spoke of love and loss, of hope and despair, of light and darkness, and, finally of salvation. The melody soared through the bright morning air, rose up through the clouds and, in Auna's mind, broke through whatever barriers separated the living from the dead. And, as Jiah finished the last, clear, radiant note, Auna saw Onara was now weeping, her head on Obi-Wan's shoulder.  
  
Once the last note died away, Auna watched as hundreds of white doves suddenly burst forth from just behind the mausoleum, flying as one towards the heavens. She followed their flight until they all disappeared.  
  
She looked over at Zaka. The Whiphid, whom Auna didn't even know was capable of crying, was wiping at his wide nose. She gave him her handkerchief. He took it and blew his nose into it, a sound like the backfiring of a thruster engine.  
  
"Thank you, Auna," he said, handing the now thoroughly soaked handkerchief back to her. "Zaka glad Auna make him come to ground-laying of Je-di's little flower and Nara's mate. It made Zaka sad, yes, very sad, but it was also..." He stopped as he searched for the right word in Basic.  
  
"Lovely?" Auna suggested.  
  
Zaka nodded. "Yes, love-ly. Very love-ly."  
  
"Yes, it was," Auna agreed.  
  
She looked around. The servants were all moving back towards the manor. Jiah had prepared a huge meal and Simtro had given everyone the day off. Onara and Obi-Wan had risen from their seats, but were now talking quietly with the priestess. Then, after bowing deeply over Onara's hand, the priestess left them and made her way towards the manor, giving Auna and Zaka quick, but curious looks. Obi-Wan and Onara remained in front of the mausoleum.  
  
"Come on, Zaka," Auna said, taking him by the arm and steering him towards the manor.  
  
"What about Je-di and Nara?"  
  
"They'll be in. Let's just leave them be for a bit."  
  
Zaka nodded and accompanied Auna into the manor.  
  
To be continued.... 


	8. Part Eight

In Love and War - Part Eight  
  
------------------  
  
"I miss them," Onara said softly as she gazed sadly at the door of the mausoleum. "But, my heart is at rest now. Ben is with my father, and he'll watch over my darling. As will Dalan."  
  
"Yes, they will." Obi-Wan kissed her forehead.  
  
"Obi-Wan?"  
  
"Yes, love?"  
  
"What do the Jedi believe? About the afterlife?"  
  
Obi-Wan considered her question as he took her arm and led her away from the mausoleum and over towards the gardens that abutted it.  
  
"We believe that after death all life becomes one with the Force."  
  
"One with the Force?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded.  
  
"And a person doesn't retain his or her spirit? That which made them unique?"  
  
Obi-Wan tilted his head and frowned. He'd never been much of a student of the more esoteric aspects of the Force, though he knew that down through the long history of the Jedi Order much had been written and discussed about what happened after death, with the general consensus being that upon death a being became one with the Force and did not retain its individuality.  
  
The Abyss, the name the Jedi had given to the barrier between corporeality and dissolution, was the final stage before a living being lost its individuality, and, as he now told Onara, once a spirit had passed through that barrier, it was then consumed by the Force.  
  
Onara walked alongside him. He saw she was mulling over his words. They continued moving among the sweet-scented blossoms, the soft trilling of birds a gentle accompaniment, the mid-morning sun warming them and, as Onara continued to remain silent, Obi-Wan looked past the gardens and over to the snowy peaks and purple-dappled sides of the Larab mountains.  
  
There was hardly any sign of the war that had brought him and Anakin to Ahjane nearly five years to negotiate a peace accord that had included Onara being given in marriage to Dalan's uncle who was, at that time, Dynast of Kindah province. That marriage had also involved Obi-Wan's participation in the Ahjane blessing ceremony, a ritual he had most vehemently not wanted to take part in. Now, as he walked beside the woman with whom he had participated in that ceremony with and now loved above all things, he couldn't imagine her not being in his life.  
  
"Obi-Wan, I can't say I much like the Jedi's concept of the afterlife," Onara suddenly said, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
He nodded. "I understand. I have observed that most cultures in the galaxy prefer to believe in some kind of life after death. Sentient beings are the only living things that are aware that someday they will cease to exist. It is comforting to imagine that death is not the end."  
  
"It isn't the end, Obi-Wan," Onara said softly, her dark eyes gazing somberly up into his. "I know it isn't. I know what you did for me, bringing me back that time when I was ill, but I don't believe I would have been consumed by the Force if I had died."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled and stroked her cheek. "I like the idea of the House of Eternal Light."  
  
"But you don't believe in it?"  
  
Obi-Wan sighed. He pressed Onara's arm against his side. "I can't say for certain what happens to us after we die, Onara. It is one of the eternal mysteries, even to the Jedi. I know only what I was taught. But, I have heard some Jedi Masters, my own former master included, posit the idea that it may be possible to preserve the body's spirit after death."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "The idea is considered somewhat heretical to most traditionalists within the Order, but there have been writings about it in the ancient texts."  
  
"Do they also believe it is possible for a spirit to return?"  
  
"Return? You mean as in being reborn?"  
  
"Yes. Do they believe we can come back after death?"  
  
Obi-Wan shrugged. "If they did, I've never heard it spoken of. Remember, the majority of Jedi don't believe we retain our identity after death, much less come back in another life."  
  
"We have what you call heretics in our religion too, and some of them do believe this. That we can and do come back."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, but said nothing. He was afraid where this was leading. He decided to change the subject.  
  
"Onara?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I saw you talking with Simtro. He said something that upset you. What was it?"  
  
Onara looked up at him. Then she sighed, shaking her head.  
  
"Tell me," he urged gently. "Let me help if I can."  
  
"It's about the memorial service."  
  
"The one in the capital?"  
  
Onara nodded.  
  
"What about it?"  
  
She released another exasperated breath. "Simtro doesn't think you should attend it, Obi-Wan."  
  
"Why?"  
  
She looked up at him. "It's not a reflection on you, dear one. It's just..." She stopped and bit her lip.  
  
"What, Onara, what's happened?"  
  
"There's been talk in the capital. Talk about you. And me."  
  
Obi-Wan stopped walking and frowned. "What kind of talk?"  
  
"About your living here at the manor. About what your intentions are."  
  
"My intentions?"  
  
"There's been speculation, especially among some members of the Assembly, that you want to marry me."  
  
Obi-Wan was about to say that of course he wanted to marry her, but he detected something in her voice that cautioned him to hear her out first.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And there have been rumors, terrible, disgusting rumors, that you had something to do with Dalan's death."  
  
"WHAT! That's insane, preposterous!"  
  
"I know, darling, I know it is. Simtro believes it's Dalan's family who is spreading these lies, that they hope to create some kind of scandal in order to strengthen their case when they go to the tribunal to contest Dalan's will." Onara turned away from Obi-Wan as she paced angrily across the grass, her hands clenched into fists. "Oh, I should just give them the money, the province, everything! I don't want it. I don't care about it."  
  
"No, Onara," Obi-Wan said, going over and taking her hands. "Dalan wanted you to have it. That's why he willed it to you. It's rightfully yours. And remember, part of the reason you married Dalan and that your provinces were joined was to prevent another war. You mustn't give in to these people. If they get their hands on Dalan's province, it will undo all the hard work you and he put in to ensure peace on Ahjane."  
  
Onara stared up at him for a long moment. "You're right, Obi-Wan. Of course. I mustn't think only of myself."  
  
"Is Simtro afraid that if I appear with you at the memorial service it will make things difficult for you in the tribunals?"  
  
"Yes, he does."  
  
"Then I won't go."  
  
"No, Obi-Wan! You talk about my not giving in to them, but if you don't go with me, then it will be you giving in to their disgusting lies."  
  
Obi-Wan cupped her face. "Listen to me, Onara. Simtro is right, No, he is," he said as she fiercely shook her head. "He's doing his job, and his job is to look after you and your affairs. You have to admit, my position here is somewhat untenable."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"What am I, Onara? A Jedi who brought you home when you were in your _yanol_? I'm no longer a Jedi. The father of your child? Dalan, according to Ahjane law, was Ben's father. No, what I am, at least to those who would seek to do you wrong is the man who was accused on the HoloNet of being your lover and cuckolding your husband."  
  
"But, Dyslogia Twang publicly withdrew that slander."  
  
One of Obi-Wan's brows arched up. "Yes, he did, after you and Anakin went to see him."  
  
Onara's eyes widened. "How did you know about that? Anakin promised not to say anything."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled down at her. "I'm afraid Anakin's loyalty to me as his master outstripped any promises he may have made to you."  
  
"You miss him, don't you?"  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes dimmed. "Yes, very much so."  
  
"Have you heard from him since you left?"  
  
He shook his head. "I do hope he's all right. However, you're changing the subject, Onara. Do as Simtro has advised."  
  
"I don't like it. I don't like giving in to slanders and innuendoes."  
  
"Neither do I, but until the contestation of Dalan's will is resolved, I think it would be wise for you to avoid any hint of impropriety. Don't you?"  
  
"Impropriety," Onara sneered. "That's ironic. The Lenor clan has its nerve accusing anyone of impropriety. Except for Dalan, all of them have been implicated in some sort of scandal or another."  
  
"All the more reason, then, to keep your reputation as immaculate as possible."  
  
"Obi-Wan, when I gave birth to a child who was conceived during a blessing ceremony, that was enough disgrace to last me a lifetime as far as most of Ahjane society was concerned."  
  
"Marrying Dalan and his having given Ben his name mollified some of that disgrace, didn't it?"  
  
"Yes, somewhat." Onara moved into Obi-Wan's arms, gazing up at him with her beautiful dark eyes. "Oh, my dear one, I wish we could run away, far away. Just the two of us. I wouldn't care if we didn't have a credit between us or if all the land we owned was just what was under our feet. As long as you were with me, I'd feel like the wealthiest woman in the galaxy."  
  
Obi-Wan stroked her hair. "I wish that too, love. More than you know, but you can't run away from who you are. You have a responsibility, not only to the people who live within the provinces you now rule, but to Ahjane." He took her by the shoulders. "I know you, love. You're not the kind of woman to run away from responsibility."  
  
Onara smiled up at him. "You do know me, don't you? And you're right. I'm the daughter of a Dynast, twice widowed to two Dynasts. I can't nor will I run away."  
  
Obi-Wan returned her smile and kissed her forehead. "So, you'll go to the memorial service without me?"  
  
"Yes, but it will be the only thing I will ever go to without you, Obi- Wan."  
  
He kissed her again. "Fair enough. Now, let's go and see what culinary delights Jiah has whipped up. I'm starving."  
  
Onara tilted her head as she scrutinized him. Obi-Wan looked down at himself.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Jiah is right. She said you'd lost about a stone. Maybe even two. And don't look at me as if you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, Obi-Wan Kenobi. She told me how you refused to eat while I was in the _yanol_. Well, there'll be no more of that," Onara scolded him. "Now that I look at you, you do, as Auna said, look as skinny as a Ho'Din. You will eat, and you will continue to eat until you're once again nice and plump."  
  
"Plump?" Obi-Wan shook his head, then grinning, grabbed Onara and held her tight against him. "I'll have you know, my lady," he murmured, "I have never been plump. See, not a bit of fat on me."  
  
"That's my point. You're much too skinny now and you need to put back on the weight you lost. Maybe even a bit more. Jiah says there's nothing wrong with a man having a little extra flesh on him." Onara then slanted a coy look at him from under her dark slender brows. "More to cuddle with, or so she said."  
  
"I wouldn't know about that," Obi-Wan remarked, very much aware of the perfume of Onara's hair and the softness and warmth of her body in his arms. "Having not had much experience with cuddling."  
  
Onara smiled up at him, her eyes dancing. "Really? No experience with cuddling? Whatever did they teach you at that Temple? Well, perhaps we'll have to do something about that."  
  
They both laughed, their arms about each other as they walked back to the manor and into the huge dining room where everyone was eating and sharing reminiscences about Ben and Dalan.  
  
To be continued.... 


	9. Part Nine

In Love and War - Part Nine  
  
-------------  
  
Jedi Master Chreeg Nygee slowly opened his eyes. He looked over to where Master Yoda was still meditating. Yoda had asked Nygee to join him for his morning meditation, but Nygee knew the real purpose of the invitation. Yoda wanted to discuss Padawan Skywalker.  
  
Adjusting his robe about his long, thin body, Nygee settled himself to wait for Yoda to finish his meditation. Three months had passed since he had been assigned to Skywalker. Three months in which the boy had seen fit to challenge and confront him whenever the opportunity arose. It was never done in such a way that could be labeled outright defiance, but there had been enough of these challenges and confrontations that Skywalker knew by heart all Nine of the treatises of the Venerable Master Iztwot Tul'mak, along with most of the codifications to those treatises.  
  
There was one thing, however, Nygee had noted. Whenever he and Skywalker were on a mission, the boy performed his duties admirably. He never questioned Nygee's authority or challenged his opinions when the lives of others were at stake. His concern always lay with those who were in need, and it was only once their mission was over he would revert back to his annoying habit of taxing Nygee's rapidly diminishing patience.  
  
"Strong he is."  
  
Nygee blinked and looked over at Yoda. His leaf-green eyes were open and staring at Nygee.  
  
"Yes he is," Nygee agreed. "Very strong with the Force."  
  
"Challenge it is to train such a one."  
  
Nygee nodded. "I've never trained anyone who could call upon the Force so effortlessly. As the Prophecy foretold, his progenitor was the Force. There is no doubt of that."  
  
"Believe strongly in the Prophecy regarding the Chosen One you do, Master Nygee."  
  
"I do."  
  
"When Master Qui-Gon first brought young Skywalker to us you were one of few Jedi who sided with him in believing he was the Chosen One."  
  
Although Nygee and Qui-Gon had often disagreed on many things, most especially Qui-Gon's disregard for the rules and the Jedi Code, Nygee had shared Qui-Gon's stanch belief the time of the Prophecy was at hand, the Chosen One had come, and he would bring balance back to the Force.  
  
"And now training him you are," Yoda continued. "As believe you should have from the first."  
  
Nygee shot Yoda a sharp, penetrating glance. It was no secret that ten years ago Nygee had been most displeased to learn the Chosen One was going to be trained, not by a seasoned Jedi Knight, or even better, by someone like him who had trained and seen knighted half a dozen padawans. No, the Council had seen fit to give over the training of Skywalker to an inexperienced youth, a Jedi who had only been recently knighted. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon's former padawan.  
  
"Master Yoda," Nygee began, clearing his throat. "It is not so much that I should have trained Skywalker. But at least someone with more experience than Kenobi should have trained him. Skywalker is the Chosen One. There is no doubt of that, and he is powerful, one of the most powerful Jedi I have ever encountered. He could be one of our greatest."  
  
"Or?" Yoda prodded, his gaze keen.  
  
Nygee swallowed in a tight throat. "Or he could destroy us."  
  
Yoda nodded. "Possible it is. Foreseen it I have."  
  
"You have?"  
  
"Among many visions I have had concerning Skywalker."  
  
"Then you see what it is I have to deal with. The boy is arrogant, Master. He is defiant and rebellious. Knight Kenobi did not do a good job with him regarding his training. Skywaler displays all the qualities that could, like a parched, dry field awaiting a single match, blaze into something dangerous."  
  
"True that is. Yet, from what I have observed and heard, you that match are helping to light."  
  
Nygee drew back, affronted. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Criticizing Padawan Skywalker's former master." Yoda slowly shook his head. "Wrong that is, Master Nygee."  
  
"I never meant it as a disparagement of Knight Kenobi nor as a sign of disrespect. I was only trying to show the boy that some of the things his former master had taught him were not---"  
  
"By criticizing Master Kenobi, into question the Council's decisions you call. Not lightly do we assign masters and apprentice."  
  
"Of course, Master Yoda. Forgive me, I didn't mean to suggest---"  
  
"Believe I do your resentment over Master Kenobi having been chosen to train Skywalker, something you yourself craved to do, is what motivates these unwarranted criticisms. Not worthy of a Jedi such behavior is. Stop it you will."  
  
Nygee lowered his head. "Of course, Master Yoda. Forgive me." He raised his head and fixed Yoda with a sharp look. "But, if my methods are not what you and the Council deem appropriate for Skywalker, why was I assigned to him?"  
  
"Say that I did not. One of our finest Jedi you are, Master Nygee. Trained many padawans you have. All of them great Jedi have become. But, correct you are. Skywalker a special case is. Brought to the Temple he was when most initiates would have been too old to train."  
  
Nygee agreed. Anakin had been far too old, but like Qui-Gon he had also recognized, as did the Council eventually, that the boy had to be trained. He was far too powerful to be left to the vagaries of chance.  
  
"Attachments he had already formed, especially to his mother," Yoda went on.  
  
Nygee frowned. "Yes, an attachment which, though he does not speak to it of me, I know he has not severed."  
  
"Misses her he does."  
  
Nygee supposed it was true. Like most Jedi, particularly in the last thousand years of the Order's existence, he had been taken from his family as an infant. It had not always been so, this training of Jedi at such an early age, along with the subsequent severing of family ties, but after the last great war between the Jedi and the Sith, and painfully conscious of the large number of Jedi who went over to the dark side, the Order initiated the new rule that Jedi were to begin their training as early as possible and were to also sever all relationships with their families.  
  
The new rule had helped to lower the number of Jedi who fell to the dark side, but it had also diminished the Order's numbers because some parents, even if told they had a Force sensitive baby, refused to give their child up to the Order. Especially if it meant the child could never see their family again.  
  
"Careful you must be, Master Nygee, regarding young Skywalker."  
  
Nygee looked over at the ancient Jedi. Yoda's hands were folded before him, his long pointed ears moving slowly.  
  
"Assigned him to you the Council did because correct you are. Much anger Skywalker carries inside him. The death of young Ben Lenor affected him deeply. And deeply he still cares for his former master. No good you do in criticizing Master Kenobi or his training of Skywalker."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
"The Force another path for Master Kenobi has chosen. But, a Jedi he was and as a Jedi respect him you shall."  
  
"Of course, Master. I will do as you say. But, does this mean I must also modify my training of Skywalker?"  
  
"No. A firm hand he needs. That the Council agrees with you on. But temper firmness with compassion, Master Nygee. That is also the way of the Jedi."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
"Go you may, Master Nygee. May the Force be with you."  
  
"And with you, Master Yoda."  
  
Nygee rose from the meditation cushion. He bowed to Yoda and, with a sweep of his robes, left the chamber. As he strode down the corridor, he mulled over Yoda's words.  
  
He still believed the Council had been wrong in assigning Obi-Wan to be Anakin's master. It was true the boy had learned much under the younger Jedi's tutelage, but Kenobi, as a result of his intimate relationship with Senator Lenor had, in Nygee's opinion, set a bad example for Skywalker. The boy already had a dangerous attachment to his mother. What would happen if he were to do as his former master had done and fall in love?  
  
To be continued.... 


	10. Part Ten

In Love and War - Part Ten  
  
-------------  
  
Anakin Skywalker tried not to wince as he contemplated his next move. He was trapped, that much was obvious. Any possible escape route he could take was blocked. He glanced over at Padmé from across the holoboard. She tilted her head, giving him a sly smile, knowing she was only one move away from winning the game.  
  
Anakin looked back at the board. Whatever had possessed him to take her up on her offer to play holochess? He had never played it before, but, certain there wasn't anything he couldn't beat Padmé at once he had learned the rules, he agreed to play. Holochess was a game of tactics and strategy and if there was one thing Anakin excelled at, or so he thought, it was tactics and strategy.  
  
"It's your move, Ani." Padmé said in an annoyingly sweet voice.  
  
"I know, I know," he growled.  
  
He glanced over to where one of Padmé's handmaidens, Dormé, was sitting on a couch in Padme's apartment. She was reading a book and also watching them play. She shook her head at Anakin, already, it seemed, recognizing his defeat. Well, he wasn't beaten yet, he thought heatedly.  
  
He frowned, fiercely studying the layout of the holographic images on the checkered board. All he had left were two Pages, a Knight and his Emperor. Padme, however, still had five pages, two Knights, her Emperor, and most importantly, her dangerous and powerful Queen.  
  
She had succeeded in surrounding Anakin's Emperor, her Queen just one move away from capturing him, with both her Knights in position to block any aggressive moves on his part. He released a frustrated breath. How had he gotten himself into such a fix?  
  
He looked into Padmé's dark brown eyes. He was certain he had guessed her strategy from the moment they'd begun playing. Had figured out her strengths and her weaknesses. Was confident there was nothing she could possibly hide from him. But, she had proven him wrong, and he had lost.  
  
Sighing heavily, Anakin pushed the controls on the holoboard that made his Emperor fall over. Dormé clapped her hands. Padmé looked over at her handmaiden and regally inclined her head. Then she turned back to Anakin.  
  
"You played well, Ani. For a beginner."  
  
"It's true, Anakin," Dormé said. "Milady usually beats first-timers in twelve moves. It took her thirty to beat you."  
  
"Well, that certainly makes me feel better," Anakin grumbled.  
  
"Don't feel bad," the handmaiden said soothingly. "I'm afraid milady wasn't quite honest with you."  
  
Padmé shot her handmaiden a sharp look, but Dormé only smiled at her. "Milady was the Naboo holochess champion three years running," she told Anakin.  
  
"The Naboo holochess champion, ummm?" Anakin leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Something you neglected to mention when you asked me to play."  
  
Padmé smiled and, reaching over, turned off the holoboard. "Now, Ani, be honest. If I had told you, would you have still played me?"  
  
"Sure I would have. I'm not afraid of a challenge."  
  
Padmé eyed him for a moment. "That's true. You're not. Speaking of challenges, are how things between you and your new master."  
  
Anakin rolled his eyes as he stood and walked away from the table. "Fine, I guess."  
  
Padmé followed him, moving to stand next to him when he stopped at the wide windows and stared out at the Coruscant skyline. She put her hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Anakin looked down at her. He really hadn't had much of a chance to talk with her. Soon after Obi-Wan was expelled from the Order, Padmé had been called back to Naboo to confer with Queen Jamilia regarding the alarming events unfolding in the galaxy. The Separatist movement, spearheaded by the charismatic Count Dooku was growing, and more and more systems were breaking away from the Republic.  
  
As a result, there was mass migrations of people within the galaxy. Once planets had declared their independence from the Republic, many of their citizens were moving back to their homeworlds, causing a strain on both galactic transportation and commerce as freighters that should have been hauling goods were now transporting people, the freighter companies having discovered that, as a result of people's fear and desperation, they could make more money gouging passengers than hauling freight.  
  
Adding to the growing crisis were those people had been caught off-planet when their homeworlds seceded, but had no wish to join the Confederacy. Many of them were finding it difficult to find worlds within the Republic on which to settle. Most were now refugees, roaming from system to system, hoping to find a world that would take them in. But most worlds were either incapable of or unwilling to take on these increasingly hopeless and desperate people.  
  
Just before Padmé had been elected Queen, the Refugee Relief Movement was formed on Naboo, serving as a galactic-wide political association that assisted those who were in need of food, clothing and supplies. Padmé had been conferring with Queen Jamila about forming a Refugee Resettlement Coalition and, along with other worlds, opening Naboo's ports to any being who sought political refuge.  
  
Padmé was back on Coruscant, trying to marshal support for the Resettlement Coalition in the Senate, but only for a short time. She would be retuning to Naboo in a day or so to continue her work on the refugee situation there. Anakin had, miraculously, been able to sneak away from Master Nygee to spend a few precious hours with her.  
  
He released a heavy breath. "There isn't much to talk about, Padmé. Master Nygee is my master now and there's nothing I can do about it."  
  
"Is it that bad?"  
  
Anakin looked down into Padme's brown eyes. He was always astonished at how she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking or feeling even when, sometimes, he wasn't so sure himself.  
  
He shrugged. "It could be worse."  
  
"Or better."  
  
Anakin swallowed hard, the edges of his eyes stinging. "I miss Master Obi- Wan."  
  
Padmé put her hand on his arm. "I know you do. Have you heard from him?"  
  
"I got a letter from him last week. He and Onara are doing fine. But..."  
  
"But what, Ani?"  
  
"He told me in the letter he understood perfectly how my duties had prevented me from attending Ben's funeral. Padmé, I never got an invitation from Master Obi-Wan to attend the funeral! I found out later that the Council intercepted it and sent back a reply saying Sinja-Bau and I were too busy to attend."  
  
Padme gasped. "They didn't?"  
  
Anakin nodded, his eyes blazing. "And let me tell you, when Master Sinja- Bau found out, she was furious. Being only a lowly Padawan I couldn't barge into the Council meeting and give them a piece of my mind, but she did and I heard it wasn't pretty. Not at all."  
  
"Oh, Ani, I'm so sorry. I know how much you would have wanted to attend."  
  
Anakin nodded, his throat tight. He had wanted to go, not just to say goodbye to Ben, but to be there for his master. He still couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose someone you loved. He continued to love and miss his mother, despite the Order's wish that he sever his connection to her. And he loved Padmé, although he had not yet gotten up the courage to tell her so.  
  
If anything were to happen to either of them, he didn't know what he would do. Obi-Wan had shown admirable restraint in not killing Lursan when he'd had the chance. Anakin would not have been so restrained. If the person who had killed Lursan had not gotten to him first---and the Council, despite intensive investigation into the matter, had not yet discovered the identity of the killer---Anakin would have surely killed Lursan. And Ben hadn't even been his son.  
  
"You didn't answer my question, Ani? What about you and Master Nygee?"  
  
Anakin's lips twisted. "He used to criticize Master Obi-Wan all the time. It made me so angry. But he's stopped now, but only because Master Yoda told him to. He's very strict, very by-the-book, loves to make me memorize all these ancient writings about avoiding attachments and such, and he worships the Jedi Code as if it were holy writ."  
  
"Isn't it?" Padme asked.  
  
"Well, not exactly. I mean, Master Obi-Wan said that when he was younger he used to believe one had to follow the Code strictly, that there were no exceptions. He used to chide Master Qui-Gon for not doing so all the time, but as he got older, he realized that sometimes real life didn't fit so neatly into a set of rules and tenets. That you had to, well, not violate the rules exactly, but bend them a little to fit the circumstances."  
  
"Obi-Wan said that? Then he has changed," Padme observed.  
  
Anakin nodded. "I think most of the change came after he met Onara. Actually, he was kind of like Master Nygee before he participated in the blessing ceremony. Strict, critical, by-the-book. I even thought that sometimes he was holding me back, that he was jealous of my abilities or something."  
  
Anakin then shrugged, an awkward look on his face. "But, looking back at those times," he went on, "I see Master Obi-Wan was just trying to do the best job he could. He was newly knighted when he took me as his apprentice. The Council was watching his every move. He was afraid of making a mistake, so he overcompensated by being so demanding. But, after he met Onara he changed. He was more open with me and less worried about what the Council thought of him. He even started reading Jedi love poetry."  
  
"Jedi love poetry? I didn't even know there was such a thing."  
  
"He'd found some in the archives, written thousands of years ago by a Jedi Knight named Nomi Sunrider. She'd written them about two Jedi she had loved; her husband, Andur, and then, after he died, she fell in love with a Jedi named Ulic Qel-Droma." Anakin looked over at Padmé. "He fell to the dark side and it was Nomi herself who had to blind him to the Force after he killed his own brother."  
  
"How sad."  
  
"It was, but she'd written some beautiful poetry. I found the love poems on Master Obi-Wan's holopad while he was searching for Sinja-Bau. I would read them to Onara."  
  
"Do you remember any of them?"  
  
Anakin nodded, suddenly feeling both elated and frightened. Padmé was standing so close to him, and he was so painfully aware of the warmth of her body, the perfume of her hair, the sweet curve of her neck.  
  
"I'd like to hear one," she went on.  
  
Anakin glanced behind him. Dormé had left the room, so he and Padmé alone.  
  
"One of my favorites was the one Nomi wrote about Ulec. But I'm not that great of a poetry reciter, so bear with me."  
  
Padmé only smiled at him, encouraging him to go on.  
  
"_Gentle are the eyes of my love_," Anakin began, quickly clearing his throat. Then he continued with the poem.  
  
_Though darkened by woe And bleak with sorrow. When he looks at me Both blessed and cursed am I.  
  
Tender are the hands of my love, Though roughened by strife And scarred by pain. When he touches me Both healed and wounded am I.  
  
Warm are the lips of my love Though hard with grief And bitter with anguish. When he kisses me Both found and lost am I._  
  
He stopped and looked down into Padmé's eyes.  
  
"That was beautiful, Anakin, and you spoke it beautifully too," she said softly. Anakin's heart trembled at the sound of his name on her lips. They continued to gaze into each other's eyes, and, Anakin wasn't sure if he was moving towards her, or she was moving towards him, or they were both moving towards the other, but their faces were just inches apart when, suddenly, the comlink on his belt buzzed.  
  
Padmé quickly drew back at the sound, a look on her face like that of someone who had almost stepped off a cliff and been pulled back just in time. Anakin, realizing an important, precious and possibly never-to-be-had- again moment had just passed by, angrily jerked his comlink off his belt and activated it.  
  
"Yes? What is it?" he barked.  
  
"Padawan Skywalker?"  
  
Anakin groaned inwardly at the sound of Master Nygee's low, sonorous voice.  
  
"Yes, Master?" he said, grimacing over at Padmé.  
  
"Report to the Temple immediately. We are to appear before the Council. They have an assignment for us."  
  
"Yes, Master. I'll be there right away."  
  
Anakin deactivated the comlink and snapped it back on his belt. He looked over at Padmé, but he could see nothing in her eyes regarding their almost- kiss. Anakin silently cursed Nygee, the Jedi Order and all the powers that be.  
  
"I have to go," he said lamely, not knowing what else to say.  
  
"I know," Padmé replied, looking everywhere but at him.  
  
"I don't know when I'll be back from the mission. And even when I get back, the Council will probably send me and Master Nygee on another one. Things seem to be falling apart in the Republic. The Jedi are hard-pressed to keep up with it."  
  
Padmé nodded. "And the growing Separatist movement doesn't help."  
  
"No it doesn't." Anakin frowned. He didn't want to talk about politics. He wanted to talk about what had almost happened between them, but he could see Padmé did not. He sighed and, walking over, picked his robe off the couch and put it on.  
  
"I'll be gone by the time you return," Padmé said, walking with him over to the entrance to her apartment. "I'm returning to Naboo."  
  
"But you'll come back in time for the vote on creating an army for the Republic, won't you?"  
  
Padmé looked up at him, her dark eyes serious. "I have to. Bail fears there may not be enough votes to prevent the creation of an army for the Republic. Trust me, nothing will keep me from casting my vote against it."  
  
Anakin nodded. He stood at the door, wanting to say something, anything, but not knowing what to say. I love you, I adore you, I worship you, I want to marry you. Those were the words he wanted to say, but couldn't.  
  
"May the Force be with you, Anakin," Padmé said formally, startling him out of his reverie.  
  
"And with you, Senator," Anakin replied, detecting from the tone of her voice it was probably best to keep their relationship on a professional level. At least for now.  
  
Then she suddenly smiled at him. "And be careful, Ani." Her dark eyes sparkled. "I want you back safe and sound for our rematch."  
  
At first Anakin had no idea what she was talking about. Then he remembered the holochess game. He grinned at her. "You're on, Senator."  
  
He entered the lift that would take him to the ground floor. As he hurried onto the street he hoped, though Obi-Wan had not spoken of it in his letter, his and Onara's romance was going better than Anakin's currently was.  
  
To be continued.... 


	11. Part Eleven

In Love and War - Part Eleven  
  
----------  
  
"I will never marry again!"  
  
Obi-Wan, who stood across the room from Onara, felt his heart jump at her words. She was glaring at Ryjast Lorus Savon who sat in a chair in front of her desk. It was he who had presented the proposal from the Lenor family offering Dalan's cousin, Gend Lenor, as a future husband for Onara. She was meeting with the representatives from the Assembly in her study.  
  
Lorus, a thin, sallow-faced man with a long, black, carefully groomed mustache, exchanged an exasperated look with his companion, Jamor Keit. Ryjast Jamor was heavily built, with a large round belly and a broad, jovial face, but Obi-Wan had learned Jamor possessed a shrewd, razor-sharp mind behind his cheerful countenance and those merry black eyes.  
  
It was Jamor who had decried the ridiculousness of the claims regarding Obi- Wan's involvement in Dalan's death, reminding the Assembly members it was Obi-Wan who, only a few months ago, they had been heralding as a hero for having killed Lursan. The rumors finally died away, and, as a result, the Lenor family lost their contestation of Dalan's will in the tribunals.  
  
There was still concern, however, among many in the Assembly as to what Obi- Wan's intentions regarding Onara were. In addition, the Lenor family had not given up their efforts, despite their defeat in the tribunals, to get their hands on Dalan's province and wealth.  
  
One of the ways they hoped to achieve their objective was through marriage. Ahjane society was patriarchal. Although some women, like Onara's deceased grandmother, the Lady Tsara, were able to achieve positions of power and influence, or, like Onara, get themselves elected Senator, most women were expected to be devoted wives, loving mothers and dutiful helpmates to their husbands.  
  
Men ruled on Ahjane and it was they who controlled the property and the wealth. Onara was quite young, very beautiful and extremely wealthy, and the Assembly wanted to see her marry and soon, knowing that whomever she chose as a husband would determine the future course of affairs in this region.  
  
The idea that, perhaps, Onara would choose not to marry was inconceivable to the Assembly. Women did not rule their provinces alone unless they were acting as regent for their underage son. Thus the proposal from the Lenor family, which, unfortunately for Onara, had the backing of a majority of the Assembly members.  
  
Obi-Wan felt his body tightening the way it did whenever the issue of Onara's marriage came up in discussion. And, of late, it was coming up more and more often. He looked over at Auna who was standing next to Onara.  
  
The Codru-Ji woman was also glaring at Ryjast Lorus. Auna and Onara had become very close since Onara's awakening, and, whenever Obi-Wan would come upon them talking, they would suddenly stop their conversation, look at him, then start giggling like two schoolgirls.  
  
The first time it happened it had shocked him for he'd had no idea Auna was even capable of giggling. He had tried to find out what it was they talked about, for he suspected much of their conversations centered around him, but both would just shake their heads and say something vague about it being just women talk and of no interest to him whatsoever.  
  
Now, as Obi-Wan looked over at Onara, he longed more and more to make her his wife. His fear she would finally give in to the growing pressure from the Assembly and marry someone else was like a thorn in his heart. But there were other fears that kept him from asking her to marry him.  
  
He knew Onara loved him, but he was still afraid she would say no to his proposal of marriage. She had been married twice and had lost both her husbands to assassination. Perhaps the words she had just spoken were true, and she did not wish to marry again. And then there was his other fear she would say yes to his proposal, they would marry, and he would wind up, though he did not know how it would happen, breaking her heart.  
  
Onara, feeling his gaze on her, looked over at him. Her dark eyes, which had been blazing with anger, softened instantly.  
  
"At least," she said warmly, as she looked deep into Obi-Wan's eyes, "I will not marry again for reasons of state."  
  
"What other reason is there for you to marry if not for reasons of state, Lady Onara?" Lorus asked her, his black mustache twitching indignantly.  
  
"There is love," she replied, a smile on her lips as she continued to gaze tenderly over at Obi-Wan. He returned her smile, his heart beating faster.  
  
Lorus, having noted where Onara was staring, cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.  
  
"Love, milady, as agreeable as it may be is hardly a practical foundation for marriage for someone of your standing."  
  
"Is that so, Ryjast Lorus?" Onara asked, arching a dark slender brow at him. "When you married Ryjastess Cheyla, the two of you were in love, were you not?"  
  
"We were lucky in that. And my wife," and Lorus turned in his chair giving Obi-Wan, where he stood across the room, a swift, but disapproving once- over, "brought much to our marriage. Wealth, power and position. You, milady, must marry for the same reasons."  
  
"Must I?" Onara said, her voice low and throbbing.  
  
"Yes," Lorus said, ignoring the dangerous look in her eyes. "And Gend Lenor is an excellent choice for a husband."  
  
Auna snorted from where she stood next to Onara, her upper arms crossed over her chest, the hands of her lower arms on her slender hips.  
  
"Gend Lenor looks like the back end of a zalot. And a pretty pathetic zalot at that."  
  
Lorus frowned at Auna. It was no secret the Ryjast disapproved of her. But Auna, over the last three months, had become not only Onara's closet friend, but her advisor, along with Simtro and Obi-Wan.  
  
Obi-Wan, not wanting to inflame the situation regarding his relationship with Onara, had chosen to position himself as far away from her as possible while she met with the Assembly representatives, but Auna boldly stood next to Onara, as did Simtro.  
  
"Surely, milady," Lorus sneered, "you are not going to let this...this..." and he gestured at Auna, his features twisting with disgust, "...this _thing_ decide matters of state for you?"  
  
Auna's violet eyes widened and she made as if to throw herself at Lorus. Onara, whose own eyes were just as hot as she glared at Lorus, reached out and took hold of Auna's arm, restraining her, but it was Ryjast Jamor who, with his quiet, but authoritative voice, defused the situation.  
  
"Ryjast Lorus, please, you shame yourself, me and the Assembly with your words." Jamor's bright black eyes looked over at Auna. "Ahjane is now a member of the Republic, and the Republic is comprised of many different species. We must respect everyone, no matter what they look like or who they are."  
  
Lorus glowered at Auna for a moment. Then he bowed his head. "Forgive me."  
  
Auna stared at the Ryjast, her lovely, elfin face still twisted with rage. Then, glancing over at Onara who nodded at her, Auna gruffly accepted Lorus' apology. Onara released her arm and turned back to Lorus and Jamor.  
  
"Gentlemen, I thank you both for having come personally to deliver this offer from the Lenor family regarding the renewal of the alliance between our two families. As for my earlier words regarding remarrying, I can assure you they were hasty ones."  
  
She glanced over at Obi-Wan, then looked back at the two Ryjasts. "However, I am still in mourning for my husband and son, and I will not consider any proposal of marriage at this time."  
  
"But, milady---" Lorus began to protest, but Jamor reached over with a plump hand and put it on Lorus' arm.  
  
"Quite understandable, milady," Jamor said smoothly, rising from his chair and pulling Lorus up with him. "We will, of course, respect your wishes and convey your message to the Assembly and to the Lenor family. But, I am sure Ryjast Lorus joins me in saying that once your period of mourning is over, you will consider carefully this offer of marriage from the Lenors. The political stability of this region and, consequently, of Ahjane depends on it."  
  
Both men bowed deeply. Onara inclined her head. They turned and left the study. Once the door closed behind them, Auna threw up her four arms.  
  
"Do they really expect ya to marry that son of a tarlak?"  
  
"Yes, Auna, they do," Onara said softly. "They fear another war."  
  
Onara looked over at Simtro. He had stood silently on the other side of her through the entire meeting. His old eyes, watery and red-rimmed, gazed somberly down at Onara, then he nodded slowly at her words. Auna fiercely shook her head.  
  
"The Lenor family can't be so ruthless as to go to war with ya? They have to respect the decision of the tribunals, don't they?"  
  
"Trust me, Auna, they are that ruthless," Simtro told her. "As for the contestation of the will, that was merely a courtesy on their part. If they had won, we would not be having this conversation, But, since they lost, it is now a matter of pride. Even if Onara were to give them Dalan's province and wealth, it would no longer be enough. Their pride has been wounded. They will go to war. Unless Onara agrees to marry Gend."  
  
"And as yar husband, Gend would control everything, right? Not just Dalan's province, but yars too?"  
  
Onara nodded. "That is our law. As my husband he would be the new Dynast. And everything I own, including me, would belong to him."  
  
"Then they've gotten even greedier," Auna remarked, her pointed ears twitching. "They want it all now; ya, the lands, the power, the whole kit and caboodle."  
  
"And they may get it," Onara said.  
  
Obi-Wan's heart lurched at her words, spoken so sadly, so forlornly, and he felt an uncharacteristic, but understandable surge of anger at the idea of, once again, another man touching his beloved.  
  
"No, ya can't do it, milady, ya just cant," Auna said firmly. "And I think the Lenor family is bluffing. If ya don't marry Gend, they won't go to war."  
  
"If it is a bluff, it is a dangerous one, Auna," Simtro cautioned her. "The Lenors care nothing for the suffering of others. They would see thousands die to get what they want. Their pride was hurt when they lost the contestation of the will. Now, in their eyes, by offering Gend as a husband for Onara they are making an honorable compromise. If she refuses to marry Gend, it will be seen as the ultimate insult and, according to the Ahjane code of honor, they will have no choice but to go to war"  
  
Simtro looked sadly over at Onara. "And they know Onara's weakness. Her desire not to be the cause of any suffering. They hope that to prevent the suffering such a war would bring she will concede to their proposal and take Gend as her husband."  
  
Onara rose from her desk at Simtro's words. The sun was streaming in from the windows behind her, highlighting her dark hair as it flowed across her shoulders. From across the room where Obi-Wan stood, she looked to him so alone, so unattainable.  
  
Ignoring Simtro, who gave him a troubled glance, he walked over and stood next to her. As he looked down into her beautiful, dark eyes, he saw reflected there his own realization that, as much they both may have longed for it, their lives were not simple ones. They couldn't just follow their heart's desires without it not having an impact upon others.  
  
Obi-Wan had deliberately put himself into a position to be expelled from the Jedi in order to be with Onara, but, with each passing day, his guilt over having left the Order he had sworn his life to, having abandoned the vow he made to Qui-Gon to see Anakin became a Jedi Knight and, most importantly, his own anguish as he found himself missing his Padawan more and more, was sometimes too much for him to bear. Only Onara's love, and the hope he could someday make her his wife and give her the child he knew she so desperately longed for, kept him from sinking too deeply into despair.  
  
Now, Onara herself faced a decision that would affect the lives of not just a few, but hundreds of thousands. If she did not marry Gend, the Lenors would, as Simtro had said, go to war. When Dalan had married Onara, he had given his father's brothers and their families some territory adjacent to his province to live on.  
  
Now that Dalan's province belonged to Onara, the Lenors were just across the border from her lands and were quite capable of launching a attack against her. If she went ahead and married Gend she would prevent the war, but he would then be in possession of not just Dalan's province, but Onara's as well. He would have wealth, power, and a great deal of influence in the Assembly, and, once more, Onara would be married to a man she did not love.  
  
As Obi-Wan continued to gaze into Onara's eyes, he wanted so much to take her into his arms, to hold her close, and assure her everything would be all right, but he couldn't. Because he knew, as well as she, was what at stake.  
  
Instead, they both turned and looked out at her province, the green rolling, sunlit hills, the golden, neatly-tended fields, the dark expanses of trees where soon the katarra would dance their mating dance. Beyond that lay Dalan's province, the one Onara also ruled, with its equally lush fields and vast tracts of forests.  
  
Much had been devastated during the last war, but Onara and Dalan had worked hard to undo all the destruction. Now, the Lenor family threatened to destroy all Onara and Dalan had accomplished in bringing peace and prosperity back to these lands. Unless Onara agreed to marry Gend.  
  
"There will be no war, Auna," Onara said in a low voice as she gazed out the window. "There mustn't be. I remember the last. The death, the destruction."  
  
She shook her head and turned, looking back up into Obi-Wan's eyes. "There will no war," she whispered, her own eyes fathomless and unreadable. "I will see to that."  
  
To be continued... 


	12. Part Twelve

In Love and War - Part Twelve  
  
-------------  
  
Obi-Wan pushed himself through the water, long, wavy tendrils of lake fronds moving slowly in front of him. He was swimming in the small lake behind Onara's manor, something he did every morning after his exercise and lightsaber practice. He usually swam alone, though one morning Onara had joined him. However, because of what had almost happened after their swim, they both had thought it best if he swam alone.  
  
Two weeks had passed since the visit from the Assembly representatives, and, although Obi-Wan had wanted to discuss their visit and the proposal of marriage from the Lenor family with Onara, every time he tried to she would quickly change the subject.  
  
He hadn't pressed her on it because, he had learned, she refused to discuss the marriage proposal with anyone, even Simtro. However, with her officially recognized period of mourning coming to an end, the communiqués from the Assembly regarding her marriage to Gend Lenor were becoming more frequent and more urgent.  
  
Obi-Wan swam to the shore, thrusting his head out of the water. Sunlight sparkled on the lake's surface, and, as he wiped water from his eyes, he was blinded for a moment by the brilliance. He was just about to get out of the lake when he saw someone standing next to where he had left his clothes.  
  
"Morning, Master Kenobi," Auna grinned at him.  
  
Obi-Wan remained in the water since he was completely naked. "Good morning, Auna."  
  
"Having a nice swim, are ya?"  
  
"Yes, I am, but, I'm about to get out, so if you wouldn't mind..." and he gestured with his hand for her to either leave or turn around.  
  
But Auna did neither. She just stood there grinning at him.  
  
Obi-Wan swam closer. "Auna, please, I'd like to get out."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure ya would, Master Kenobi. But not until ya tell me when yar going to do it."  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Ask Onara to marry ya."  
  
Obi-Wan stared over at Auna where she stood on the shore. He had never discussed his desire to marry Onara with Auna or anyone else for that matter. He wondered if that was one of the things she talked with Onara about.  
  
"Well, when are ya?"  
  
"Auna, I'm not going to discuss this with you, especially not under these circumstances. Now, if you would be so kind as to----"  
  
Auna hunkered down over his clothes, picking them up one by one and smiling slyly over at him.  
  
"I would imagine ya starting to get a bit chilly out in that water. Well, I'll let ya come out when ya answer my question."  
  
"Auna, this is ridiculous. I'm not about to----"  
  
"Ya can't let her marry that son of a tarlak," Auna suddenly said, frowning sternly at him. "And she will. Trust me she will."  
  
Obi-Wan swam closer to the shore. "Did she tell you that?"  
  
"What other choice does she have? I done some checking on these relations of Dalan's. Nasty bunch they are. Ya remember Edress, don't ya? Onara's first husband?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, frowning. He remembered Edress. Remembered the way he had pawed over Onara after she and Obi-Wan had completed the blessing ceremony, leering and groping at her like she was some piece of fabric he had just purchased.  
  
"Yeah, I thought ya would," Auna said, nodding. "Onara told me about him. Well, these uncles of Dalan's, and the aunt? They're just as bad as Edress was, if not worse. And Gend, Dalan's cousin?" Auna sucked air through her teeth. "A real pig, that one."  
  
"Auna---"  
  
"Ya have to marry Onara, Master Kenobi. She loves ya so much. That's why she's stalling on this proposal. She's hoping ya will ask her---"  
  
"Auna, I have nothing to bring to a marriage," Obi-Wan suddenly cried, his tortured words echoing around the lake.  
  
Auna's violet eyes widened. "What? What do ya mean ya got nothing to bring to a marriage? Ya got ya. That's all Onara wants."  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head as he continued to float in the water. Auna was right, the water was starting to get cold, but she was wrong about him. He truly had nothing to bring to a marriage with Onara. No money, no status, no title, nothing, and marrying him would not prevent a war as would her marriage to Gend. His marrying Onara would most likely start one.  
  
"Goshdollyswop, but ya are the most stubborn Jedi I know."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled at Auna where she stood glaring at him from the shore. "Auna, I'm the only Jedi you know."  
  
"And glad I am of that if the rest of them are anything like ya."  
  
Obi-Wan only shook his head. He swam closer. "All right, Auna, you've had your say. Now, either turn around or leave, because I'm coming out."  
  
"Not until ya say yar going to ask Onara to marry ya."  
  
Obi-Wan swan to the shore's edge. He pushed himself up and out of the water.  
  
Auna yelped, darting away from Obi-Wan's clothes as he strode over to them, water dripping off his naked body.  
  
"What by the Seven Sisters do ya think yar doing?" she shouted, turning quickly away from him.  
  
"I told you I was coming out of the water" he said, picking up his towel and drying himself off.  
  
"But, I didn't think ya would go and do it with me standing here and all," she said irately, her back still to him.  
  
Obi-Wan dried his hair, then put on his clothes. "Then you've learned another thing about the Jedi, Auna. We are, as you say, quite stubborn, and we also say what we mean and mean what we say."  
  
"Humph! I don't know what it is Onara sees in ya," Auna said, her face still turned away from him. "Yar a daft one, that ya are, Master Kenobi."  
  
she moved her head slightly to peer at him, one of her pointed ears twitching, her voice low and suggestive.  
  
"On the other hand, when ya came out of the water just then, naked as a baldbird, I did catch a glimpse of what Onara sees in ya."  
  
Then Auna giggled, startling Obi-Wan again for it was such an incongruous sound coming from her.  
  
"And ya claims ya got nothing to bring to a marriage," she went on in an incredulous voice. "I would say, Master Kenobi, having now seen ya in yar natural state and all, that ya got more than enough to bring to a marriage. Oh, yes indeed. More than enough."  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head at her bawdy comments and, impulsively, threw his wet towel at her. She turned around, frowning, then, making sure he was completely dressed, threw herself at him.  
  
They rolled across the ground wrestling. Then Auna, her four arms wrapped snugly around Obi-Wan's chest, succeeded in pinning him to the ground. They both laughed, aware she had won only because Obi-Wan had let her win.  
  
Then, Obi-Wan's smile slipped away as, looking up from where he lay beneath her, he saw something in Auna's eyes he had never seen before, or, perhaps, it had been there all along and she was just now letting him perceive it. The laughter faded from her face and her violet eyes burned into his. Then, slowly, she moved her head down towards his.  
  
"Obi-Wan," she whispered, her voice caressing his name.  
  
He felt her two hearts beating frantically against his chest, and, just as her lips were about to touch his, he spoke.  
  
"Auna," he said quietly, his tone that of a friend gently asking another what did she think she was doing.  
  
Auna's eyes widened in shock. She stared down at Obi-Wan, then quickly shook her head.  
  
"Master Kenobi! I'm sorry. I...I don't know what come over me. Must be all this sun." She collected herself for a moment, then frowned fiercely down at him. "Well, are ya going to ask Onara to marry ya, or do I have to beat some sense into ya."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled up at her, relieved to see she was back to her cantankerous self. "It would appear I don't have a choice, do I?"  
  
"No. Ya don't."  
  
Auna rolled away from him and onto the ground. They both lay quietly for a moment, and Obi-Wan followed her gaze as she stared up at the sky. A few birds soared across the wide, blue expanse and he saw thick, white clouds forming over the Larab Mountains. Hopefully they would bring rain. The fields were starting to become parched. He turned his eyes from the sky and looked over at Auna.  
  
"I don't even have a ring to give her. I don't have a credit to my name."  
  
She sat up and grinned. "Don't ya worry about that. It's all been taken care of."  
  
She reached into a pocket on her jumpsuit and pulled out a small green box, handing it to Obi-Wan. He sat up, taking the box from her. Opening it he saw, nestled in red velvet, a ring, delicate and beautiful. Its band was of white gold and the center stone was a large star diamond that caught and held the light, the gem sparkling and shimmering like the surface of the lake. The side stones were rare and precious fire-gems.  
  
"And no, before ya say anything, I didn't steal it. I bought it with some of the profits me and Zaka made on our last job. It was his idea, actually. I know ya ain't got no money, having been a Jedi and all and being poor as a temple mouse, but ya got to give Onara something pretty. She deserves it."  
  
Auna tilted her head as she gazed at the ring. "Ya can pay me back later. I'll even take installments, and I won't charge ya no interest. It's Onara's size and all. She gave me one of her rings as a gift. Well, I sort of begged her for it cause I needed her size. So, don't worry, it'll fit."  
  
Obi-Wan stared down at the ring, then he looked over at Auna. He had to blink several times because his vision was blurred. "Auna---"  
  
She suddenly rose from the ground and Obi-Wan followed her. "I know if ya had the time ya would have worked yar fingers to the bone to get the money to buy Onara a ring, but ya don't have the time. Ya gotta ask her and ya gotta ask right away. So, ya don't have to say a word, Master Kenobi. Not a word."  
  
Obi-Wan reached over and took her arm. "No, I do, Auna. I do have to say a word. More than a word. You are a good friend. No, you are a dear friend, one of the kindest, most generous people I've ever met."  
  
Auna shook her head and looked down at the ground, her face rosy with a deep blush. "Aw, stop with the mush already. I hate mush."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled at her. Then he pulled her over, stroked her hair and kissed her gently on the cheek. Auna's eyes grew large as saucers. Then she pushed him away with an embarrassed laugh.  
  
"Go on with ya, ya loony Jedi. Off with ya and go make Onara yar wife."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, then he looked anxiously over at Auna. She saw the look and, taking him by the shoulders, squeezed them.  
  
"Don't worry, Master Kenobi. Don't ya worry about them greedy Lenors. Ya and Onara will handle them. The two of ya will find a way to prevent the war."  
  
"It's not just that, Auna." Obi-Wan looked down at the ring where it lay in the box. "I don't want to hurt her."  
  
"Hurt her? How would ya hurt her, Master Kenobi?"  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head helplessly. "I don't know. I'm no longer a Jedi..."  
  
"But yar afraid you can take the Jedi out of the Order, but ya can't the Order out of the Jedi."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled wryly. "Something like that. I don't know what destiny the Force still has in store for me. What if I have to leave her again? What if- --"  
  
"What if? What if?" Auna cried, interrupting him. "Master Kenobi, ya can drive yarself crazy with all yar what ifs? None of us knows what life has in store for us. None of us knows what tomorrow may bring. But ya can't let that stop ya from living. All we have is this moment. And this is the moment ya needs to go ask Onara to be yar wife. Whatever what ifs comes, at least ya won't have to face them alone."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled. "You're right, Auna. I can't be afraid of the future, whatever it may hold. All any of us have is this moment. Something, as a former Jedi, I should have remembered. Thank you."  
  
"Well, as far as I'm concerned, Master Kenobi, yar still a Jedi, ain't no former about it. And, uh, about what happened earlier...ya know, when I almost kissed ya? " Auna shrugged her shoulders, looking embarrassed. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just playing with ya."  
  
"I know, Auna. Don't worry about it."  
  
He gave her one last, hard hug, wishing he could give her what he knew it was she wanted from him, and hoping, with all his heart, that someday she would find it with someone else. He picked up his towel, turned and walked back to the manor  
  
"And ask Onara to marry ya as soon as ya see her." Auna called after him. "No stalling and no procrastinating. Time is flying."  
  
"I will," he assured her.  
  
Auna watched him disappear into the trees. Then she sat on the shore, wrapped her four arms around her legs and quietly wept.  
  
To be continued... 


	13. Part Thirteen

Hi! Thanks again for your lovely comments. They make writing this story a real joy! :) It may be a few days before I put up another post because I need to take some time to determine the course of the rest of the story, but I'll get the next post up as soon as I can, it just may be a few days. Take care!  
  
In Love and War - Part Thirteen  
  
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Onara, her head bowed, finished her prayer. She looked up and over at the small shrine she had constructed to Sithara, the Ahjane goddess of death and birth. The shrine was located in the bridal chamber of the manor. The very chamber where she and Obi-Wan had participated in the blessing ceremony and had, as a result of her grandmother's machinations, conceived Ben.  
  
The chamber was never used and had seemed the perfect place to build her shrine. No one knew of it, or what Onara prayed for every day she visited it. Not even Obi-Wan. Especially not Obi-Wan, for she did not think he would approve of what she was doing.  
  
Bending over, Onara blew out the two green candles on the shrine. As shrines went, it was a simple one. Sithara was only one of the manifestations of the Great Creator. Therefore, there was no image of the goddess, but the Ahjanese, when calling upon her, usually placed a small sickle, a fresh grain of wheat and a handful of seeds on any shrine dedicated to her. The sickle represented death, the grain life, and the seeds rebirth.  
  
Onara had also placed on the shrine some things that had belonged to Ben. A piece of fabric from one of his shirts, one of the Force toys Sinja-Bau had instructed him with, some of his favorites rocks and, lastly, the lightsaber Obi-Wan had constructed for him, for she had not, as she'd told Obi-Wan she'd done, put it in Ben's coffin. She had kept it, and now it lay here.  
  
Onara sighed as she continued to kneel before the shrine. No, she was certain Obi-Wan would not approve. He believed Ben's spirit was one with the Force, and he would not want her to get her hopes up with regard to their son being reborn, as much as he probably longed for such a miracle in his own heart.  
  
Onara's religion had taught her Ben was now residing in the House of Eternal Light, waiting for her to join him. But she also believed, needed to believe, that his spirit could be reborn. Thus the shrine. Not many Ahjanese believed in rebirth, however. The priestess who had officiated at Ben and Dalan's funeral was one of those who did.  
  
It was she who had counseled Onara, instructed her on how to build the shrine, what objects to place on it, and what prayers to say. No one knew of the shrine, for Onara was afraid she would be thought irrational for yearning so much for the return of her child. And, perhaps, she was. But if there was even a chance her darling could come back to her, Onara was willing to take it.  
  
Therefore, she went about her everyday affairs with calmness and composure, sometimes crying in Obi-Wan's arms when the sadness was too much for her, but basically giving everyone the impression of a woman who still mourned the loss of her child, but was moving on with her life.  
  
And Onara was moving on with her life. She had no choice but to do so. But inside she mourned for Ben with a deep and unrelenting grief, and she knew in her soul he was not supposed to have died. Not like that, not so young. Something had gone terribly wrong, she sensed, some skein in the tapestry of the universe had unraveled when it should not have. So she prayed every day, alone, fervently, secretly. She prayed to Sithara to bring her son back to her.  
  
Onara moved away from the shrine. Rising, she turned and opened the door of the bridal chamber, then locked it with a key only she had. Walking down the hall she made her way to the stairs that led down to the main portion of the manor. It was late morning and she heard the hustle and bustle of the servants as they prepared for the day.  
  
Glancing at a clock as she passed by, she knew Obi-Wan was probably done with his morning swim in the lake and would be returning to the manor for breakfast. Her cheeks flamed as she recalled that morning she had joined him for a swim. Turning a corner, she made her way to the kitchen.  
  
After they had come out of the lake, the two had lain on the shore and let the sun dry their bodies. Although Onara suspected Obi-Wan swam nude in the lake when he was alone, that morning he had worn swimming trunks and she her bathing suit. And, yet, they had come so close to giving in to their burning desire for each other, come so close to finally making love after all the years apart, that both had decided it would be best if Obi-Wan swam alone for the time being. At least until the situation with the Lenors was settled once and for all.  
  
And it was that situation that was continuing to darken Onara's thoughts, in spite of the lovely morning. The Assembly was pressuring her to accept Gend Lenor's proposal of marriage. Onara did not need them to remind her of what was at stake, for it was her province and her people who would suffer if war were to come, but the Assembly, and rightfully so, was also deeply concerned regarding what would happen if the conflict were to spread. It had been Obi-Wan and Anakin's intervention five years ago which had brought about peace and kept the war between Onara's father and Edress from drawing other provinces in.  
  
But, now, even though Ahjane was a member of the Republic, with all that was happening in the galaxy, the Jedi Order's peacekeeping efforts were being strained to the limits. It was a great cause of concern for the Assembly and, Onara knew, it distressed Obi-Wan greatly as he and Onara watched the growing and alarming reports of unrest within the galaxy on the HoloNet news. The Assembly, therefore, was strongly motivated to keep the peace on Ahjane. Onara's marrying Gend would do that, they hoped, no matter what it would do to her heart.  
  
"Morning, milady," Jiah said as Onara walked into the kitchen.  
  
"Morning, Jiah. Ummm, something smells good."  
  
"It's a new recipe for an omelet I'm trying. I thought Master Obi-Wan might like it for breakfast."  
  
"Has he returned from his swim?"  
  
"Not that I know of, milady. I saw him earlier when he was feeding Ben's pet, but I haven't seen him since. Now, why don't you sit down and I'll get you a nice cup of kaf, and then your breakfast."  
  
"Thank you, Jiah."  
  
Onara sat down at the large wooden table in the center of the huge room. She usually had breakfast in her study so that she and Simtro could go over that day's business, but she loved this kitchen. When she was a little girl she used to spend as much time here as she could. It had also proven a convenient place to hide from her grandmother, the Lady Tsara who, thinking herself far above such common and dreary things as preparing food, never set foot in it.  
  
Whenever her grandmother had scolded her for something, which was usually every day, Onara had escaped to the kitchen and stayed there until either her father or one of her elderly aunts came and got her. She was therefore familiar with its warm, comforting smells. Jiah set a steaming yellow mug of kaf in front of Onara, along with cream and sugar.  
  
"Thank you, Jiah."  
  
"You're welcome, milady."  
  
The gray-haired cook put her hands on her lower back and stretched, grunting softly as she stared out the window.  
  
"Are you all right, Jiah?" Onara asked.  
  
Jiah tore her gaze from the kitchen window where, outside, the sunlight shimmered on the leaves of a large green and gold melora tree.  
  
"Me, milady? Oh, I'm fine. Just getting old, as we all must if we're so lucky. No, I was just admiring the lovely morning."  
  
Then, as the sound of someone whistling came through the window, Jiah looked over at Onara and smiled.  
  
"Sounds like Master Obi-Wan is done with his swim."  
  
She turned around and came back with another mug of kaf, which she placed next to Onara. Then she winked and went back to her cooking. Onara shook her head. Jiah was as bad as Auna when it came to encouraging the romance between her and Obi-Wan. Then, her heart began to beat hard as she heard Obi-Wan walking around the manor and towards the door that led from the gardens and into the kitchen.  
  
She watched as he entered the kitchen and, as always, not only did her heart begin to beat faster, but the blood seem to rush through her body and her breath came quicker. He stopped when he saw her, surprise on his face. The sunlight glimmered on his red-gold hair, which was still damp from his swim. His beautiful blue-gray eyes were shining and then, suddenly, he smiled at her; a wide, happy, joyous smile.  
  
And, as Onara gazed over at him, she knew it wasn't just Obi-Wan's physical presence that she loved, though she couldn't deny he had a beautifully proportioned and athletic body. It wasn't only his sun-kissed skin, or his firm but sensual lips that kissed her so tenderly and so passionately, his classically handsome features, or the tantalizing magnetism of him that sometimes made it difficult for her to get to sleep at night.  
  
There was a spiritual aura about Obi-Wan that Onara was drawn to like a moth to a bright, warm flame. It was a spirituality that did not come just from his ability to wield the Force, because, although Onara had experienced the Force twice when Obi-Wan had channeled it to her, she knew it was something more that he possessed, some indescribable quality about him that her soul responded to and yearned for.  
  
She had felt it the first time she saw him, when her father had brought her before him for the blessing ceremony. She had never told anyone, not even Obi-Wan, but just before she had fainted, when she had looked up into his strangely-colored eyes, she had been struck by a feeling so powerful, so potent, it had almost made her heart stop beating.  
  
Because she had sensed, at that moment, that somehow, someway, she was going to be bound to this man, body and soul, forever, and, other than having her precious Ben back or having another child, nothing would make her happier than to spend the rest of her life loving and being loved by Obi-Wan Kenobi.  
  
Now, as he walked over to her, his eyes gazing deeply into hers, though the two of them, because of the events swirling around them, had made it a point not to express their affection for each other in front of the servants, on this bright and beautiful morning, with her heart as full of joy as the kitchen was full of light, Onara did not care what anyone thought. She wanted her love in her arms.  
  
She made to rise from the table so she could embrace him, but before she could, Obi-Wan walked over and fell to his knees before her. From the corner of her eye, Onara saw Jiah stop kneading her bread to stare at them.  
  
"Onara?" he asked in a soft voice as he gazed tenderly up at her.  
  
Reaching over, she caressed the whites streaks in his red-gold hair. "Yes, my darling?"  
  
She watched as Obi-Wan showed her a small green box. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she heard Jiah draw in a sharp gasp, but Onara kept her eyes on Obi-Wan. He finally succeeded in opening the box because his fingers, she saw with a sweet pang of her heart, had been shaking so badly he'd been unable to get a grasp on the lid.  
  
He looked up at her, his eyes shining with love as he held the open box out to her. "Onara, my love, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"  
  
Onara gazed down at the beautiful ring where it lay snugly in red velvet inside the box. Then she looked over at Obi-Wan and smiled, her heart now a choir of voices singing joyfully.  
  
"Oh, yes, my darling, yes!"  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes shimmered with both happiness and tears. He took Onara's hand and tenderly kissed the palm. She shivered at the touch of his soft, warm lips on her skin. Then, taking the ring out of the box, he slipped it on her finger.  
  
They held hands for a moment, then Onara helped Obi-Wan to his feet and, as she'd longed to do from the moment he first walked into the kitchen, she threw her arms around him. Obi-Wan held her close, then picked her up and swung her around the kitchen.  
  
"Onara, my love, my sweet, sweet love. Are you truly mine?"  
  
"Yes, dear one, I am yours, forever and ever," Onara cried happily as Obi- Wan continued to swing her around, Jiah laughing and clapping as he did so.  
  
He twirled her around once more, then stopped, setting her gently on the floor. Gazing down at her, his own wondrous, lovely eyes reflecting both the light in the room and the love in his heart, he slowly lowered his head, his lips caressing hers. Onara trembled in his arms; then, gently, he covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, tenderly, completely.  
  
"It's about time."  
  
But Onara only heard Jiah's voice from a great distance as Obi-Wan continued to kiss her, claiming her body, her soul and all her tomorrows, and she heard nothing for quite some time but the sound of his name ringing blissfully in her heart.  
  
To be continued... 


	14. Part Fourteen

In Love and War - Part Fourteen  
  
---------------  
  
Onara stared over at Obi-Wan's profile. The two of them were sitting in the moonlit glade where, nearly five years ago, they had watched the katarra, large, butterfly-like insects indigenous to Ahjane, perform their mating dance.  
  
At that time, the war between Onara's province and Edress Lenor's province had only recently ended, and the devastation from the conflict had nearly wiped out the katarra, so only a small number had showed up the night of the blessing ceremony when Obi-Wan and Onara had snuck away from the bridal chamber to see them.  
  
The katarra had returned to their normal population over the years, and Onara and Obi-Wan were expecting a wondrous show. But, now she wondered if he would even enjoy it, because what she had just told him regarding her plan to avoid a war with the Lenors was, she saw, weighing heavily on his mind.  
  
"A challenge," he finally said, looking over at her, his blue-gray eyes luminous in the moon-frosted light.  
  
Onara nodded. "It is my right, although it's an ancient custom. But the Assembly will have to recognize my prerogative to bring it."  
  
Obi-Wan sighed. It was a warm night now that it was near mid-summer. Onara wore only a thin violet gown, a fringed purple and ebony shawl that she had brought with her, which was lying on the grass, and soft white slippers on her feet, her long, dark hair about her shoulders.  
  
Obi-Wan was dressed in a sleeveless beige tunic and pants. As Onara leaned against his arm, the warm smoothness of his bare skin pressed against hers. She looked down to where her left hand was clasped in his. The moonlight blazed within the star diamond in the ring he had given her.  
  
She had learned from Simtro, though Obi-Wan wasn't aware of it, that it was Auna who had purchased the ring for him. She told Simtro to give Auna her money back. Then, when Obi-Wan paid her back, which Onara knew he would find a way to do, she told Auna to keep that money too.  
  
Auna had protested, not wanting to be paid double, but Onara told her she was so grateful for what she'd done, helping Obi-Wan like that, she just wanted to show her gratitude in whatever way she could. Auna had finally agreed. But she then told Onara that when Obi-Wan did pay her back for the ring, she was going to donate the money to charity.  
  
Onara squeezed Obi-Wan's hand as he continued to mull over what she had told him. She knew Auna was in love with Obi-Wan, having known it from the first time the two had talked together, for she had seen in Auna's eyes whenever she talked about Obi-Wan what Onara felt in her heart when she thought of the Jedi.  
  
For Auna to have done what she did in purchasing the ring for Obi-Wan showed Onara a purity of unselfish love that made her weep. Therefore, it had become her secret goal to find someone for Auna so the Codru-Ji woman could someday be as happy as Onara was.  
  
"So, let me understand this," Obi-Wan said carefully, interrupting her thoughts. "You will accept Gend Lenor's offer of marriage?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But, having also accepted mine, you will then call for a challenge."  
  
Onara nodded. "You and Gend will have to fight for the right to marry me."  
  
"To the death?"  
  
Onara glanced away from him, knowing this was the thorny part of the plan for him. "In ancient times, yes, it was to the death."  
  
"But these are not ancient times."  
  
"No, they're not." Onara glanced down, then looked back at Obi-Wan. "But, the custom has not changed. It must be to the death."  
  
"And if I kill..." Obi-Wan stopped. He firmed his lips and looked into her eyes. "If I kill Gend, then the Lenors---"  
  
"Will have no choice but to accept the outcome," Onara said. "There will be no war and you and I will be free to marry."  
  
"And if he kills me?" Obi-Wan asked.  
  
"I will be his. But, he won't kill you, he mustn't," Onara cried, clinging to his arm. "You're a Jedi Knight."  
  
"Onara, it would not be appropriate for me to use my Jedi powers against him."  
  
"I know that. That's not what I meant. I meant there's no way he can defeat you. Is there?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
She waited for his answer, her heart pounding. This, for her, was the thorny part of the plan. The challenge would have to be to the death; therefore, she was risking Obi-Wan's life by suggesting it. But she couldn't imagine anyone defeating him in combat. Even if he didn't use his Jedi powers.  
  
Obi-Wan shrugged. "I don't know anything about him. Except, according to Auna, he's a pig. But that's just Auna talking, and it certainly tells me nothing about what kind of a fighter he is."  
  
"I don't know much about him either," Onara admitted. "Dalan only mentioned him in passing. He didn't care for his father's two brothers or their families. Well, only Diomis is married. He's Gend's father. And then there's Faren. That's Dalan's other uncle. He isn't married and has no children."  
  
Obi-Wan reached up and rubbed his chin with his hand, his other hand still clasped firmly about hers. Onara knew she was asking a lot of him. Though he was no longer a member of the Jedi Order, he was still very much a Jedi in his heart. The idea of fighting to the death was, she knew, barbaric to him, and, under other circumstances, it would be as archaic and barbaric to her as the blessing ceremony had been. But it was the only thing she and Simtro had been able to come up with that could, hopefully, prevent the war with the Lenors and allow her and Obi-Wan to marry.  
  
"What if Gend does not accept the challenge?" Obi-Wan asked her.  
  
"If he does not accept, then he has no claim to me or to anything else. The offer of marriage must be withdrawn, and the Lenors will have no basis upon which to go to war."  
  
Obi-Wan looked up at the sky above them. Onara followed his gaze. Hundreds upon hundreds of stars blazed above them, studding the velvet darkness like diamonds. Then, with a jagged twinge in her heart, she wondered if Obi-Wan was wishing he was back among those stars, still a Jedi Knight, traveling about the myriad worlds of the galaxy with Anakin at his side, fulfilling the duty he had once sworn his life to. She drew in a sharp, pained breath. She couldn't blame him if he did wish it.  
  
"Don't worry, Onara. I'm happy here with you, and there's no place I'd rather be."  
  
Onara jumped and looked over at him. He was now looking at her, his beautiful eyes gazing deeply into hers. She had wondered once before if the Jedi were telepathic, or, if perhaps, the Force gave them insights into sentient behavior which made it seem as if they could read minds. Whichever it was, it was still unnerving. Obi-Wan smiled, lifted her hand where he held it and brought it to his lips. He kissed the back of it, sending a thrill down Onara's spine.  
  
"If Gend Lenor accepts the challenge, then I will face him," he said. "And I will do what I must to make you my wife and keep your province and your people safe. But, I hope he will not accept the challenge. I have no wish to kill anyone."  
  
Tears brimmed in Onara's eyes. This was not what she wanted. Not at all. She didn't want Obi-Wan risking his life, having to kill, or, most terrible of all, being killed. She was tempted to tell him to take back his proposal of marriage, to leave Ahjane, go back to the Jedi Order and recant his false confession regarding Lursan's murder. To become a Jedi again and forget all about her.  
  
Onara shook her head. No, she didn't want that. Gods forgive her, she didn't want that at all. She wanted him with her, needed him with her.  
  
Crying, she threw her arms around him. "Oh, Obi-Wan, my darling, forgive me. Please forgive me. I couldn't think of anything else to do. It was the only plan Simtro and I could come up with. But if it should go horribly wrong, if you should be killed, then I won't want to live. I will follow you, and I will die too because I will not, I can not live without you."  
  
"Don't worry, love," Obi-Wan said softly as he stroked her hair. "I won't die. And neither will you. We will live, you and I, for a very long time, and we will grow old together. I promise you."  
  
Onara pulled away and looked up at him. "And children?"  
  
Obi-Wan gave her a wide smile. "Oh, yes. Most definitely. As many as you want."  
  
Onara smiled impishly through her tears. "Then I want a dozen."  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "A dozen? Onara, it is true the Force is with me, but a dozen children?"  
  
Onara laughed, knowing he was teasing her as she was teasing him. They kissed then, for a long time, caressing each other in the soft, warm darkness of the glade, but stopping short, as always, of consummating their love for they were saving that for their wedding night.  
  
Then, breathless, their hearts pounding with desire, they finally pulled away and watched as the katarra, the green males and the golden females, entered the glade. There were hundreds of them and they flitted about the air, filling it with the flickering of their luminescent jade and golden wings as they flew and fluttered and glided about each other.  
  
Soon the males and females had paired up and then, startling both Obi-Wan and Onara, the bonded katarra spiraled around them before going off to start their all night mating and begin a new cycle of life. Once the last pair had left the glade, Onara noting with gladness there were no solitaires and all the katarra had succeeded in finding a mate, she felt Obi-Wan staring at her. She looked over at him.  
  
"Have they ever done that before?" he asked.  
  
Onara shook her head. When she was a little girl her father used to bring her to watch the katarra dance, but they had never paid them the slightest attention. Obi-Wan nodded, then stood, helping Onara to her feet.  
  
"Perhaps it was a blessing," he said, smiling down at her.  
  
Onara didn't know, but she prayed it was. She and Obi-Wan were going to need every blessing they could get if they hoped to achieve their goal of preventing a war. She therefore hoped, along with Obi-Wan, that Gend did not accept the challenge and would leave the two of them in peace to marry.  
  
Reaching down and picking her shawl off the grass, Obi-Wan put it around her shoulders, softly kissing her on the neck as he did so. Then, his arm about her, he and Onara left the glade and returned to the manor.  
  
To be continued.... 


	15. Part Fifteen

In Love and War - Chapter Fifteen  
  
----------------  
  
The long, flat rays of the late afternoon sun burnished the waters of the large pool. Diomis Lenor watched, his mouth twisted with both contempt and admiration, as his only son dove into the water from the highest platform, cleaning cleaving it. Sitting next to the pool in a lounge chair his wife, Jonica, who was shamelessly clad in a barely-there red bathing suit, gaily clapped her hands, the rings on her long, slender fingers glittering in the sunlight.  
  
"Well done, darling!" she cried.  
  
Gend's head pushed up through the water. He waved to his mother, a wide, white smile on his broad, tanned face. Then, noting his father standing nearby, his smile slipped away. He slowly swam to the side of the pool. Jonica turned as Diomis walked over to her.  
  
"You look upset, my husband," she said in her affected girlish voice. "Well, I hope you don't plan on remaining in your sulky mood. You promised to go to Rygast Savon's party with me this evening and I don't want you spoiling it."  
  
Diomis only grunted as he waited for Gend to get out of the pool. Jonica was almost 50 years old, but she didn't look a day over 20. As a result of the surgeries she'd undergone and the drugs she'd taken over the last ten years, she now looked younger than Gend, who had recently turned 25.  
  
The fact his wife wanted to keep her youthful beauty did not bother Diomis, for he was the envy of his friends as a result of her obsession with her looks. But that it took quite a lot of his money for her to keep up her youthful facade, and she insisted on acting like she was still a young girl did bother him. Greatly.  
  
"I have a reason for my, as you call it, sulky mood," Diomis said to his wife. "I received a communiqué from Onara."  
  
Jonica's face twisted with disdain. "Really? Has that hussy finally come to her senses and accepted Gend's offer of marriage?"  
  
Just as Diomis was about to answer, Gend climbed out of the pool. Picking up a towel, he dried off his tall, muscular body. Diomis stared at him. He had, over the years, sometimes wondered if Gend was really his son. His reasons for doubting so were quite legitimate. Jonica was not only vain, but indiscreet and had had a number of affairs over their 30-year marriage.  
  
And there was Gend himself. He was as conceited and self-centered as his mother, the two of them nothing more than spoiled children, seeking only to indulge their mindless pleasures; Jonica's for spending money on expensive, extravagant things, along with her obsession for the unnatural preservation of her youth, and Gend's for eating, drinking and fornicating, and his current, and quite costly fascination with exotic alien weapons.  
  
But, there was no doubt, at least physically, that Gend was Diomis' son. He was the spitting image of his father. The same square-jawed face, bronze- colored, sunken eyes under a heavy forehead, hooked nose, which in Gend's case was broken, and large, muscular body.  
  
But, where Diomis' black, gray-streaked hair flowed across his broad shoulders, Gend was completely bald except for a black glossy braid at the back of his head. A hairstyle he had recently adopted, having observed and admired it on a Fedelorian ambassador. Diomis sniffed with disdain. Another of his son's affectations, along with his avid interest in collecting alien weapons.  
  
"Yes, Father," Gend said as he threw down the towel and flopped into a lounge chair next to his mother who smiled indulgently over at him. "Has Onara finally seen the light and realized her destiny lies with me and only me?"  
  
Gend winked over at his mother. She responded by giggling. Irritation surged through Diomis. Fifty-year old woman should not giggle. He cleared his throat loudly to get hers and Gend's attention.  
  
"Onara has accepted the offer of marriage we tendered to her."  
  
Both Gend and Jonica sat up, staring wide-eyed over at Diomis.  
  
"She has?" Jonica cried. "Then we've won."  
  
Her long, black eyes glittered and Diomis knew she was thinking of how she would spend the money that would come to them from Onara's marriage to their son.  
  
"We haven't won yet," Diomis said brusquely, wanting to draw his wife out of her daydreams of blissful squandering.  
  
"What do you mean?" she snapped, peeved at his tone. "Of course we've won. She's accepted the proposal. Once Gend marries her, all she has will be ours."  
  
"Onara has called for a challenge."  
  
"What?" Jonica shot out of her lounge chair, shock on her face. "How dare she!"  
  
"A challenge?" Gend also got out of his chair. "What kind of a challenge?"  
  
"It's an ancient rite," Diomis explained. "Long ago, males of the noble class would fight for the right to marry a woman."  
  
Gend's bronze-colored eyes shone with a fervent light. "A battle?"  
  
Jonica quickly shook her head, her thick, reddish-black hair swinging across her shoulders "It's preposterous, outrageous. The Assembly won't stand for it."  
  
"They have accepted her right to call for it," Diomis told her.  
  
"But why?" Jonica cried. "It's an archaic rite. No one has called for a challenge in centuries."  
  
Diomis shrugged. "I have no idea why the Assembly agreed to it. When I see Lorus at dinner tonight I will ask him. But, it doesn't matter why they accepted it. There will be a challenge."  
  
"With whom?" Jonica asked.  
  
"The Jedi. Kenobi. He has asked Onara to marry him."  
  
Jonica turned away, her hands balled into fists. She walked back and forth in front of the pool, her long smooth legs scissoring as she paced.  
  
"No, I won't accept it. There mustn't be a challenge." She stopped and looked over at her husband. "Declare war. If Onara won't marry Gend, then invade her lands and take what is rightfully ours."  
  
Diomis strode over and grabbed his wife's arm, shaking her. "You stupid cow!" he shouted. "And just what am I supposed to invade with? I have no money with which to pay for a large enough force of arms with which to defeat Onara. Thanks to you and that spawn of yours and all the money you've spent in pursuit of your pleasures, we're nearly penniless. I threatened to go to war with Onara because I hoped she would do anything to spare the suffering of her people. But that's all it was. A threat. Gend must accept the challenge. We have no other choice."  
  
"Penniless?" Jonica mouthed, her eyes staring wildly up into his.  
  
"Yes, penniless. With all the uncertainly in the Republic of late, many of my investments have fallen through. And the two of you," and he glanced angrily between his wife and son, "spend money as if there's no tomorrow. Well, at this rate, if we don't get back Dalan's provinces and wealth, along with all Onara owns, there will be no tomorrow for any of us."  
  
"Penniless?" Jonica repeated dully.  
  
Diomis released his wife's arm, turning from her in disgust. Money. That was all she cared about. She had stopped loving him a long time ago.  
  
He looked over at his son. Gend was glaring at him, his bronze-colored eyes burning. He adored his mother and hated when Diomis yelled or manhandled her, but he dared not confront his father about it. Not if he wanted to continue to live.  
  
"You will fight this Jedi and you will kill him. Understand?" Diomis said firmly.  
  
"No!" Jonica was stirred out of the horror of her impending poverty by concern for the only thing she cared about besides money. Her son. "You can't let him fight."  
  
"Why not?" Diomis asked.  
  
Jonica ran over and took Gend's arm. "It's ridiculous. He shouldn't have to fight anyone so he can marry that skinny, bug-eyed girl. Make her marry Gend."  
  
Diomis crossed his arms over his chest. "And how am I supposed to do that?"  
  
"I don't know. But I won't let my son fight that Jedi."  
  
"It's all right, Mother," Gend said, staring hard at his father. "I want to fight him."  
  
"No, Gend," Jonica cried, gazing anxiously up at him. "You can't fight him. He's a Jedi. They're sorcerers. Witches. He'll cast a spell on you."  
  
Diomis shook his head. "Kenobi will not be allowed to use his powers in the challenge."  
  
"So you say," Jonica sneered as she looked over at her husband. "How do you know he will keep his word?"  
  
"He is an honorable man," Diomis said simply.  
  
Jonica's lips, the ones she'd had surgically altered to look fuller, twisted with derision. "Honorable? How honorable a man is he? He cuckold Dalan."  
  
"You know he did not, Jonica," Diomis said sternly. "As did everyone else. I told you spreading that rumor he'd had something to do with Dalan's death would not work."  
  
Jonica shrugged, brushing off the failed attempt to dishonor Kenobi in the eyes of the tribunal. She continued to cling to her son's arm. "Gend will not fight him. He must not fight him."  
  
"Mother, please," Gend said, extricating his arm from hers. He walked over and stood in front of his father.  
  
"I look forward to meeting the Jedi in combat. And I will kill him, Father. Have no fear of that. Onara will then be mine, and all she owns will be ours. And, rest assured, I will not be as weak and foolish as my poor cousin and fall in love with her."  
  
A leer then spread across Gend's face. "But I will bed her. And, forgive me, Mother, but you're wrong. Onara is not skinny or bug-eyed. She is very beautiful, one of the most beautiful women on Ahjane, with the body and face of a goddess."  
  
Jonica snorted scornfully. Gend smiled at his mother. "You being the most beautiful, of course." He turned back to Diomis.  
  
"And Onara, whether she wants to or not, will bear me sons to continue our family name and daughters to be married off to increase our wealth. But, most important of all, she will be what she should have been from the first. A compliant, submissive Ahjanese wife. And if I have to beat her obedience to me and to our family into her..."  
  
Gend shrugged his broad shoulders, his mouth spread in a wide, white smile. "So be it. But, I promise you, Onara will do as she is told once she is my wife and give neither of you any trouble."  
  
Diomis nodded. That was exactly what he wanted. Once Onara was married to Gend, it would be he who would control her wealth and her properties. Gend would sink back into his mindless indulgences and not care what his father did with Onara or her wealth.  
  
Diomis smiled as he stared at his tall, muscular son. He had no doubt Gend would defeat Kenobi, not only because the Jedi would not be allowed to use his witch powers in the challenge, but because Gend had spent years learning to fight and wield all manners of weapons. Though he had yet to be tested in actual combat, there was no doubt in Diomis' mind his son was the superior fighter. The Jedi would not stand a chance.  
  
Then, once Kenobi was dead and Onara married to Gend, Diomis would begin his plan to one day rule Ahjane. For a change was in the wind. He could sense it, the way one could sense an approaching storm. A time was at hand, both on Ahjane and out in the galaxy. A time when the strong would rule the weak and all that mattered was power and whoever wielded it. Diomis planned to be ready when that time came.  
  
"That is good to hear, my son," he said. "But first you must win."  
  
Gend grinned broadly at Diomis, his earlier anger at his father having vanished with his eagerness to face Kenobi.  
  
"Don't worry, father," Gend assured him. "I will win. The Jedi will die and Onara, and all that is hers, will be ours."  
  
To be continued.... 


	16. Part Sixteen

In Love and War - Part Sixteen  
  
----------------  
  
Jonica tapped the toe of one elegant shoe against the gleaming parquet floor. She lifted her hand to her mouth and was about to chew on her nails, a bad habit left over from her childhood, but remembered not only had she stopped chewing her nails years ago, she'd just had them done that morning. She quickly lowered her hand, biting her lower lip instead.  
  
She was standing just inside Gend's workout room which was located in the left wing of the mansion. Her son was sparring in preparation for the challenge tomorrow morning. His sparring partner was his Uncle Faren, Diomis' younger half-brother.  
  
Unlike either Diomis or Gend, Faren was neither tall or muscular. He was of medium height, which made him a couple of inches shorter then her, with a lean, wiry build. His small, thin-lipped mouth was usually either closed tightly, since he hardly spoke, or pulled back in an ingratiating smile that never reached those bulging, yellow eyes. He was going bald, something Jonica could not understand, since there were drugs he could have taken to regrow his hair.  
  
Gend suddenly roared. Jonica jumped at the sound, then saw her son had succeeded in disarming his uncle. Faren, the sweat gleaming on the bare skin of his head, acknowledged his nephew's prowess with his usual thin- lipped smile, but Jonica noted the brief flare of anger in his eyes.  
  
"Well done, nephew," he said. "It would appear you are ready to meet the Jedi tomorrow."  
  
Gend nodded, smiling as he twirled his blade in intricate patterns around him. "I wish the Jedi was allowed to use his powers in the challenge. I know I could still beat him even if he did."  
  
Jonica shuddered at her son's words. He was a complete and utter fool. Though she had never met a Jedi, she had heard enough about what they were capable of to greatly fear them. It was said they could cast spells which would make one do whatever they commanded; walk into a fire or fall upon a sword. That they could move faster than the eye could see and manipulate objects with just their mind.  
  
She shook her head. Gend was an idiot to even wish such a thing. It was her fear the Jedi would not honor his vow which had brought her to this room. She watched as uncle and nephew now strolled around the room. Neither had yet noticed her presence.  
  
"Come, uncle. I'll show you what I've acquired since you were last here," Gend said proudly.  
  
Hundreds of alien weaponry lined the walls of Gend's workout room. Jonica shuddered again. She hated he had become so enamored of alien weaponry these last few years. First, because weapons of any kind made her uneasy, and secondly because aliens, and anything that belonged to them, made her equally uncomfortable.  
  
There were more aliens visiting and, in some cases, living on Ahjane than ever before since it joined the Republic. Something Jonica did not approve of at all. Ahjane for Ahjanese was her belief. Then her lips curled with disgust. Onara had two of the ghastly things living with her; a four-armed freak and a lumbering beast. Well, once she was part of the Lenor family there would be no more of that.  
  
"This, Uncle, is a punch-dagger. I acquired it last week."  
  
Jonica drew her thoughts back to her son. He was showing Faren a small, handheld knife.  
  
"It doesn't look like much," Faren commented, with just a hint of disdain in his voice.  
  
"Ah, but that's the beauty of it. Once you plunge it into the body of an opponent, the blade extends and causes even more internal damage."  
  
"I see." Faren took the punch-dagger from his nephew and examined it more closely.  
  
"Too bad I can't use it tomorrow."  
  
"The weapons for the challenge have already been approved by the Assembly," Faren reminded him.  
  
Gend shrugged his broad shoulders. He took the dagger back from his uncle and placed it carefully in its niche on the wall. "I know. But, it's still too bad."  
  
The two moved down the wall as Gend showed his uncle his other weapons. From where she stood, Jonica heard him call out such names as razor-stick, Rodian cyrogenic whip, neurostaff, molecular stiletto, microwave stunner, gaderffii and something called a Kedran lip smear.  
  
"It looks like lipstick," Faren said, laughing.  
  
"It is, Uncle, but a most deadly one. It's impregnated with a poison that can stun a victim. The user must take the antidote before she can wear it. However, after the kiss and once the victim lies helpless..."  
  
Both Gend and Faren laughed. "Truly a woman's weapon," Faren observed.  
  
Then he happened to turn his head and saw Jonica standing in the doorway. Faren's bulging yellow eyes grew even larger, his pupils dilating, and from where Jonica stood she could see his breathing becoming quicker and shallower, and his tongue, which reminded her of the tongue of a jade- backed lizard, licked his thin lips. Gend, noting Faren was no longer looking at the weapons, frowned at his uncle, then turned to see where he was staring.  
  
"Mother," he cried happily.  
  
He waved in her with a board grin. Jonica sauntered into the room, making sure her hips swayed provocatively as she drew closer. She smiled inside. Faren followed her every move with his eyes, his gaze hungry.  
  
"Son," Jonica said as she moved next to him and took his beefy arm. "You should be resting and not playing around with your little toys."  
  
She was speaking to Gend but her eyes were on Faren.  
  
"They're hardly toys, Mother. And I'll go to bed soon enough. Though I don't know how I'll sleep. I can't wait for tomorrow."  
  
Jonica frowned as she finally tore her gaze from Faren and looked up at her son. "Well, I can. I still don't like this, Gend."  
  
"There's nothing you can do about it, Mother. And I wish you would stop worrying. There's no way the Jedi can beat me."  
  
"Especially since he can't use his powers," Faren interjected in his raspy voice.  
  
Jonica shook her head. "I don't believe he'll honor that vow."  
  
"Why not?" Faren asked, moving a step closer to her, the nostrils of his long nose quivering as he took in the scent of her perfume.  
  
"Would you?" she retorted. "When the Jedi marries Onara, he's going to be very rich and quite powerful. I've heard about these Jedi. They're not allowed to own anything. Now, suddenly, he's going to have everything. More wealth than he's ever seen, and it's all within his grasp. Would you take a chance on losing all that?"  
  
Faren tilted his head, the lights of the room glimmering on the bare skin of his skull and black, oily strands of his remaining hair.  
  
"From what I've heard, the Jedi is deeply in love with Onara." He shrugged. "He would marry her even if she didn't have a dinerit to her name."  
  
Jonica threw back her head and laughed, very much aware the gesture emphasized her breasts.  
  
"I don't believe it. Not in a million years. No one would be that foolish." She gave Faren a crafty, but appraising look. "I never took you for a romantic, Faren."  
  
He frowned at her, that telltale flare of anger burning in his eyes. "I'm not, Jonica. Far from it."  
  
"That's good to hear," she said. "I despise romantics. Love is just a trick nature deceives us with in order to get us to reproduce."  
  
"Really, Mother," Gend said laughing, his chest booming with the sound. "The things you say."  
  
"Believe it, my son," she said, her voice suddenly sharp. "Never fall in love. Never be that weak. Take your pleasure from women, but never love them."  
  
"Don't worry, Mother. I have no problems taking my pleasure from women, and I'd rather cut off my arm than fall in love."  
  
Jonica nodded, then looked over at Faren. "I don't believe the Jedi loves Onara at all. I think his so-called expulsion from the Jedi Order was just a subterfuge. He's after her money and her influence here on Ahjane. For what purpose, I don't know." She shook her head firmly. "There is no way he's going to risk losing all that. He'll use his powers to defeat Gend. How do I know, you wonder? Because if I were him, I would."  
  
Her son lifted his thick-jawed head. "Let him use his sorcerer's powers. I'm not afraid."  
  
Jonica firmed her lips, then looked deeply into Faren's eyes, and she saw in their cold, yellow depths what she herself felt. Gend was too arrogant and too overconfident. If the Jedi used his powers against him, he would die. It was that simple. Jonica tilted her head over at Faren, an unspoken message passing between them. He nodded imperceptibly. Jonica smiled. Her son would not die tomorrow.  
  
--------------  
  
Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes. He was sitting on the fawn-colored carpet of his chamber in Onara's manor. He had been meditating for most of the evening. He had wanted to spend this last night before the challenge with Onara, but he had felt in his heart that he needed to be alone, to come to terms with what he would have to do tomorrow.  
  
He looked around. This room had been Onara and Dalan's bedroom. Before that it had belonged to Onara's father, Dynast K'lia. Onara had said the room had been redecorated since her father's death, but she had kept the large Tivinai Provincial bed which had belonged to her parents.  
  
Obi-Wan, when he had arrived on Ahajne, had been given the chamber by the servants, unaware at the time it had been Onara's and Dalan's bedroom. Once he had learned it was, he had wanted to move to another room, but by then Onara had awoken from her _yanol_ and all that had been on his mind was her.  
  
Now, he had grown used to the room, aware of not only the memories of Dynast K'lia, a man Obi-Wan had known only for a short time, but had greatly respected, but he sensed both Onara's and Dalan's auras in this room and, strangely, it gave him some sense of comfort. Plus, he also knew it was Onara's wish that once they were married, she would move into this chamber and it would be theirs.  
  
Obi-Wan sighed as he rose to his feet. Onara's marriage to Dalan had not been a completely joyous one, but he knew there had been moments when they had, at least, shared some happiness. As for him, he hoped that once they were married, he would be able to give Onara all the bliss and joy it was within his power to grant her. She still mourned Ben's passing, as did he, and his most fervent wish was to give her another child to fill the emptiness Ben's death had left in her heart.  
  
He walked over to the blondwood desk and picked up a book. It was the one Sinja-Bau had given him upon his departure from Coruscant. _The Classic of Peace and Balance._ He'd already read it twice, so now he just opened a page at random. Although it was late and he knew he needed his rest, he was finding it difficult to sleep.  
  
He gazed down at the pages. The book was a collection of Jedi epigrams, gathered over the long existence of the Order. Some Jedi used the book as a means of focusing their meditation. Obi-Wan, this night, hoped to find guidance for what he had to face tomorrow. He read the words.  
  
_Accept misfortune and welcome disgrace, for they are the condition of all sentient beings. Do not be driven by fear of loss or hope of gain. Love even misfortune as if it were your own body. Having a body means being bound to the gain and loss of all things. Love all things as if they were your own body._  
  
Obi-Wan sighed. He found comfort in the words, but they also sent a chill down his spine. Then he heard a soft knock at his door. He smiled, closing the book and placing it back on the desk.  
  
"Come in, Onara."  
  
Onara opened the door and peered around it, surprise on her face. It never failed to startle her when he always seemed to know it was her who knocked. But, how could he not, he thought as she entered the room and walked over to him. She filled his mind the way a garden filled the night air with its perfume. He was always aware of her presence, even when she wasn't with him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, I didn't mean to disturb you. I know you wanted to be alone tonight, but---"  
  
She stopped when Obi-Wan quickly drew her into his arms and kissed her. Onara was dressed in a violet silk nightgown which, though modest in design, only served to highlight her sensual beauty. As he kissed her, he recalled the nights he had spent in deep meditation in order to ease the fire in his body and his most heated and unJedi-like thoughts about her.  
  
Onara softly slid her arms up and around his neck, eagerly returning his kiss. After a long breathless moment they pulled away, their hearts pounding, their bodies warm and heavy. Then Onara canted her head as she gazed up at him, her dark eyes sparkling.  
  
"I thought you wanted to be alone," she whispered, her breath warm against his lips.  
  
He shrugged, smiling down at her. "I changed my mind." Then he stroked her cheek. "Couldn't sleep?"  
  
Onara shook her head, worry creasing her forehead. She leaned against him, burying her face in his chest. "I don't want you to fight tomorrow."  
  
"It's too late for that, Onara."  
  
"I know. But, I can't help it."  
  
"I understand."  
  
He took her by the arm and led her over to the plush brown divan near the bed. They sat down, their arms around each other. For a moment, neither said anything. The wind was high tonight and Obi-Wan heard it rattling fiercely against the windows. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to concentrate only on the warmth of Onara's body in his arms, the gentle pulse of her heartbeat, the soft release of her breath, the delicate, but heady scent of whatever soap she had used to bathe with this evening.  
  
"You'll have to kill him," she suddenly said, her voice low and throbbing.  
  
"I don't want to."  
  
"You have to, Obi-Wan. If you don't, he'll kill you."  
  
He nodded, adjusting his arms and drawing her closer.  
  
"And if you die, I'll die too," Onara went on.  
  
"Don't say that, Onara. Please."  
  
"I will, but not before I find a way to kill Gend."  
  
Obi-Wan grabbed her arms and pushed her away from him. "No, Onara," he said, his voice firm. "You will not die and you will not kill anyone. You will live and go on with your life, no matter what happens tomorrow."  
  
Onara fiercely shook her head, her dark eyes welling with tears. "I won't, Obi-Wan. I can't take anymore pain. I can't. Father, Ben, Dalan." The tears spilled down her cheeks. "I won't live if I lose you. I won't. I love you, Obi-Wan. I love you more than my life, and I won't live without you. I won't."  
  
Obi-Wan stared at her, his own eyes stinging. Then he pulled her back into his arms and held her tight, letting her sob against his chest, stroking her long, black hair where it flowed down her back. Then he felt her pull away. He looked down into her tear-ravaged face.  
  
"Promise me, Obi-Wan. Promise me that if there is no other way, you will use your powers to save yourself."  
  
Obi-Wan gently cupped her cheek, stroking her tears. "I can't, love. You know that. I swore not to use my powers. It would not be fair."  
  
Onara's eyes blazed. "And do you think the Lenors will play fair, my darling? Do you? I'm so afraid, Obi-Wan. Something terrible is going to happen. I can feel it. Oh, I wish I had never called for this challenge." She squeezed his arms. "Please, please, promise me you will call upon your powers if you have to."  
  
"No, Onara. I will not make that promise."  
  
Onara stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, leaning her cheek against his chest. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be," Obi-Wan whispered. "I know you're asking this of me only because you love me."  
  
"I do love you, Obi-Wan, and it's your sense of honor and duty I love among all the other qualities I worship about you. But, I can't help dreading that your devotion to honor, something the Lenors know nothing of, will get you killed."  
  
"Have you so little faith in my abilities, love?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice lightly teasing.  
  
Onara raised her head from his chest and gazed solemnly up at him. "No, Obi- Wan. My faith in you is as infinite as the heavens, but my faith in the Lenors to be honorable, to be fair--" She shook her head.  
  
Obi-Wan kissed her forehead. "There is nothing we can do about that, my love. Just have faith in me."  
  
Onara gazed up at him, then slowly nodded. Obi-Wan smiled and, lowering his head, gently, but totally, claimed her lips.  
  
-------------  
  
Jonica grimaced as Faren kissed her on the neck. The two were in his room in the mansion. Gend had finally gone to bed. Diomis was spending the night in the capital, making the final arrangements for the challenge. Jonica suspected he had absented himself from the mansion as much to avoid being in his half-brother's presence as to make those arrangements.  
  
Gend had invited his uncle to attend the challenge, but if Diomis had had has way, Faren would not have come within a hundred leagues of him. There was no love lost between the brothers. They shared the same father but had different mothers. Faren, as a result of a dalliance Diomis' father had indulged in some 40 years ago with a dancer, had been born in disgrace.  
  
As a result of his illegitimacy, Faren had no real standing in the Lenor family, but Gend liked his uncle. Jonica did not know why, but it was probably because only Faren seemed to take an interest in her son's obsessions with weapons and fighting.  
  
As for Jonica, she could no more stand Faren then her husband could. He was venal and ambitious, wallowing in his resentment like a boned hen in a stew at having been born on the wrong side of the blanket. But, as he tightened his arms around her and moved his mouth from her neck and over to her face, she now had need of him, as much as it revolted her to be in such a position.  
  
"No kissing," she said as Faren tried to do so.  
  
He pulled back, his yellow eyes burning. "Why not? Am I not good enough to kiss?"  
  
Jonica smiled sultrily at him. "That will be part of your prize after you've done what I asked."  
  
Faren grunted. "It won't be easy."  
  
"But it can be done."  
  
He shrugged. "Anything can be done. Gend showed me a weapon in his collection that just might do the job."  
  
"He mustn't know about this," Jonica said quickly.  
  
"He won't," Faren assured her.  
  
"And neither must Diomis. Especially him. My husband has this perverted sense of honor. He would not approve of our little plan."  
  
Faren smirked, drawing Jonica closer. "I try to spend as little time in my brother's company as he does in mine. Don't worry, he won't find out." He moved his mouth back to her neck.  
  
Revulsion shuddered through Jonica. The things she had to do to protect her interests.  
  
"Are you sure this weapon will kill the Jedi?" she asked.  
  
Faren moved away from her and glared. "We don't want to kill him. The entire Assembly will be there observing the challenge." He shook his head. "The weapon I saw in Gend's little collection will only stun the Jedi, leaving him unable to defend himself."  
  
A sneer twisted Jonica's features. "What do you plan to do? Kiss him with that lip poison."  
  
Faren growled and grabbed her arm, squeezing it hard. "That's not funny."  
  
Jonica tried to wrench her arm away, but Faren gripped her tighter, his yellow eyes boring into hers.  
  
"All right, I'm sorry," Jonica cried. "I didn't mean anything by it. Now release me."  
  
Faren glared at her a moment longer, then let go of her arm, but he quickly drew her back into his loathsome embrace.  
  
"It must appear as if Gend has killed the Jedi, not that he died by some other means," he murmured as he went back to kissing her neck. "The weapon I have in mind will render him helpless. Then Gend can easily deliver the killing blow."  
  
Jonica wasn't keen on the idea. She wanted the Jedi dead, by whatever means necessary, but Faren, she had to admit, though grudgingly, was right. No one must suspect anything. It must look as if Gend had defeated the Jedi in fair combat or the Assembly would not accept the outcome.  
  
"And then," Faren grinned at her, looking more and more like a rat as he did so, "you will have what you want, and I will have what I want."  
  
He tried to push her onto the bed, but Jonica nimbly moved out of his arms and stood, adjusting her gown and patting her hair back into place.  
  
"Yes," she purred, ignoring the look of anger and frustration in Faren's eyes. "You will have what you want, but only after the Jedi is dead and Onara is married to Gend. Understand?"  
  
Faren stared at her, his thin throat wobbling as he swallowed, his eyes raking her body. Then he finally nodded. Jonica gave him another fulsome smile, full of the erotic promise of his eventual reward, then turned and left his room.  
  
To be continued.... 


	17. Part Seventeen

In Love and War - Part Seventeen  
  
----------  
  
Diomis grunted as he settled himself into his seat. He looked around. The arena where the challenge was to be held was one of the smaller ones located within the capital. Used mainly for less important athletic contests, it could hold only about 5,000 spectators. But there were nowhere near that number in attendance on this warm, sunny morning.  
  
Only the members of the Assembly, about 500 of them, were seated within the stands, and they were all clustered in the shaded seats just under the huge canvas awning. Diomis sat there also, along with his wife, Jonica. Nearby sat Ryjasts Lorus Savon and Jamor Kiet, along with a number of other Assembly members whom Diomis was acquainted with. Ryjast Lorus leaned closer, his thin face gazing curiously at Diomis and Jonica.  
  
"Where is your brother?" he asked. "Wasn't he invited?"  
  
A grimace cramped Diomis' face. "My brother is ill, Ryjast Lorus. Something sudden, or so he says." He looked over at Jonica. "My wife tells me he regrets missing the challenge, but he is sure Gend will be victorious."  
  
"Ah, a pity," Lorus said. "It's too bad the challenge will not be broadcast. He could have watched it from home."  
  
Ryjast Jamor, who was sitting on the other side of Lorus, shook his huge head. "I'm glad the idea was voted down. It was barbaric, to say the least."  
  
Lorus smiled thinly. "You have to admit, Jamor, the reasoning behind it was quite sound."  
  
Jamor snorted, his broad face creased with a disapproving frown. "It most certainly was not. Distracting the people from Ahjane's economic woes and the current political instability in the galaxy by watching two men fight to the death _is_ barbaric. No matter the reasoning behind it."  
  
Lorus only shrugged, smiling over at Diomis as if to say one must excuse Ryjast Jamor. But Diomis agreed with the rotund Ryjast. There was no need for the general populace to witness what was going to happen here today. It was between his family and Onara.  
  
And, as he thought of her, he watched as three doors at the far end of the arena opened. The Assembly members, who had all been talking amongst themselves, instantly quieted. Jonica, who had been unusually silent since her arrival at the capital, stiffened. Diomis looked over at her, but her face was a mask. He looked back at the arena floor.  
  
From the three doors, Gend, the Jedi, and Onara walked out separately and into the bright sunlight. Onara was between them and, as Diomis watched her walk towards where the crowd was seated, he felt his throat tighten. He had not seen her since her return to Ahjane. Her intermediary had appeared at the tribunal session. Diomis had attended her wedding to Dalan, but that was nearly four years ago.  
  
Now, as she drew nearer, he found himself staring at her. Onara was dressed, according to tradition, in an old-style Ahjanese gown. The linen chiton she wore left her right shoulder bare and was girdled about her slim waist with a gold belt.  
  
The gown was of a deep, lush red, symbolizing not only the blood that would be spilled today, but the passion of the men who fought for her. Her thick, black hair hung loosely about her shoulders, its darkness in sharp contrast to her pale golden skin. Stopping before the seats in which the Assembly waited, Onara bowed. Then she raised her head and spoke the ancient words, her voice ringing clearly in the sun-drenched air.  
  
"I present myself this day, willingly and knowingly, and whomsoever emerges victorious, I will be his."  
  
Diomis swallowed heavily as he gazed at Onara. In the four years since he had last seen her, she had matured, and her beauty and her presence reminded him so much of his mother. Although it had been years since her death, Diomis still felt it deep in his heart. His mother had been a honorable and gracious woman, given in marriage to a man who had never loved her, a man who had flagrantly and shamelessly cuckolded her at every opportunity until she had finally died from heartache.  
  
The last thing his mother had whispered to him before she passed on was a promise from Diomis not to be like his father, to be a just and honorable man, but he had not lived up to that promise as fully as he had hoped to. He was faithful to Jonica, though she had betrayed him over the years with her lovers. He tried to be fair to some degree with those he dealt with, though he also couldn't stand not getting his way.  
  
But, at least when it came to how he acquired whatever he desired, he tried to obtain such things as honorably as possible, He was an ambitious man, and he craved power the way his wife craved money, and was not above lying or cheating to get what he wanted, but deep inside he longed to be honorable, longed to be something of what his mother had wanted him to be.  
  
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Diomis looked at the two men who would now fight to the death for the right to marry Onara. Both Gend and Kenobi were also dressed in traditional clothing for the challenge, which went back thousands of years in Ahjanese history.  
  
They wore short, white woolen tunics, girdled about their waists with a narrow black belt. Both also wore strip-armor around their left shoulders and arms, sandals on their feet, and they carried the weapons which had been approved for the challenge; swords and shields.  
  
As Diomis examined Gend and Kenobi, he saw Gend had both the weight and height advantage over the Jedi. His son was taller and more heavily muscled. The Jedi, however, the sun shining on his red-gold hair, was in excellent shape. His muscle tone was good and, although he wasn't as heavy or tall as Gend, Diomis suspected he was probably nimble and quick.  
  
Onara turned and faced Gend. It was the custom for the woman to present herself to the challengers for her hand. Gend leered at her, his dark gaze sweeping familiarly over her body. Diomis frowned at his son. There was no need for that. The boy could at least conduct himself with some dignity. Onara, however, gazed coolly back at Gend, her dark eyes betraying nothing.  
  
Then she turned, and, as she looked over at Obi-Wan, Diomis felt his heart lurch in his chest. Gend was both right and wrong regarding Onara's beauty. She was indeed one of the most beautiful women on Ahjane, but, as she gazed at the Jedi, her eyes filled with love, her face shining with it, it was not Jonica who, according to Gend, was the most beautiful woman on their world. It was Onara.  
  
Diomis glanced over at Jonica, at her artificially maintained face. She was beautiful, too, but it was the beauty of a statue, hard and cold. It had not always been so. When he and Jonica had first married, he had thought her kind and considerate. But, and he supposed it was his fault, she had changed over the years and become nothing more than a heartless, greedy harridan who cared for no one but Gend and for nothing but money.  
  
Diomis released a heavy sigh as he looked back at Onara and Kenobi. They were still staring at each other, the Jedi's strangely colored eyes seeming to drink her in and, despite the fact they were standing on the floor of an arena, with hundreds of pairs of eyes upon them, it was apparent that, at least for that breathless moment, nothing existed for them but the other.  
  
Then Kenobi gave Onara a small smile. She returned it, and Diomis saw her hand moving as if she longed to reach out and touch him, but, according to the ritual, it was not allowed. She could show no favor to either of the men who were to fight for her. Then, reluctantly tearing her gaze from the Jedi, Onara turned towards the seated Assembly members. She bowed again, then walked forward. Diomis knew she was entering the corridors that led from the arena floor and up to the seats.  
  
Everyone waited until Onara reappeared again, this time just a few rows away from where Diomis sat. She seated herself next to her major-domo, Simtro. Her two alien companions were also there: the four-armed woman and the furry beast. Once she was seated, Onara happened to look in Diomis' direction. They exchanged a glance, then Onara turned away and looked down at the floor of the arena. Diomis also turned his attention back to the two combatants.  
  
Both men raised their swords in salute to the Assembly and to each other. Then, with a short blow of a horn, the fight began. Diomis leaned forward, as did Jonica. It was apparent the two were evenly matched. As their swords clanged against each other or beat on the shields, Diomis saw that what the Jedi lacked in height and girth he made up for in speed and agility. He frowned, wondering whether the Jedi was using his powers.  
  
He glanced down at the gray-faced alien who sat in the front row. It just so happened the alien was on Ahjane on business, an acquaintance of Ryjast Jamor's. He was a Plezour and, according to Jamor, had the ability to detect when the Force was being used. He, along with an Ahjanese arbiter, were to observe the fight and make sure both Gend and Kenobi followed the rules. Diomis saw no indication on the alien's face that the Jedi was taking unfair advantage of Gend. He settled back, confident Gend would be victorious.  
  
Then. as the Jedi quickly parried a number of swift advances by Gend, Diomis sensed his wife was very agitated. He looked at her and was shocked to see Jonica was gnawing on her fingernails. She seemed oblivious to what she was doing as she was also glancing nervously around the arena. Diomis frowned. He could understand her being concerned for Gend's safety, but this was something different. This was more than just concern. This was almost a hysterical anxiety.  
  
Then, noting her husband's eyes on her, Jonica quickly lowered her hand. She gave him a weak smile, but her eyes soon went back to their frantic darting about the arena. Diomis followed her gaze, but was unable to discern anything unusual.  
  
He turned back to the fight. The two men exchanged bone-shattering blows, their swords ringing in the air, the sunlight shimmering on the blades. Both of their bodies shone with sweat, Gend's bald head, except for its long black braid, glimmering in the sun. The Jedi's red-gold hair was sticking to his forehead, but both men were still breathing easy.  
  
Then Diomis frowned darkly as the Jedi delivered a particularly expert series of attacks which Gend barely parried. The two danced away from each other, eyes narrowed as they assessed their opponent. Then with a loud, wild cry, Gend rushed at Kenobi, his sword swinging. Again, the two exchanged blow after blow, the dust rising and falling about their shifting feet. And, once again, the Jedi managed to get inside Gend's defenses, but, instead of delivering the killer stroke, he moved away.  
  
What was the Jedi doing? Diomis thought angrily. Playing with Gend? Because, even without the Force, it was apparent the Jedi was the superior swordsman, and he was going to win. Gend must have sensed it too, for his sword strokes were becoming more wild, fueled by his growing anger and frustration. Then, Diomis almost rose out of his seat. Again, the Jedi had had an opportunity to sink his sword into Gend, but, again, did not take it.  
  
Then it finally came to Diomis what was happening. The Jedi did not want to kill Gend. He was defending himself admirably, and, offensively, was clearly skilled enough to have ended this fight long ago. But he did not want to kill Gend. Diomis could not understand this.  
  
All Kenobi had to do was kill Gend, which it was apparent he could easily do. He would then win the challenge and Onara and all she owned would be his. But he was risking all that because he could not bring himself to kill his opponent. A man who wanted nothing more than to spill his blood upon the sand and claim the woman he loved as his own.  
  
Diomis looked around. By the looks on the faces of the Assembly members, he saw they had also discerned what was going on. He looked over at Onara. She was clinging to the arm of the huge, furry beast, but her gaze was fixed on the floor of the arena, her dark eyes wide. And he saw on her face both fear and love for Kenobi. She too knew what he was doing.  
  
Diomis turned back to the arena. Both men were becoming tired, but Kenobi still had the advantage. Then, he heard his wife hiss sharply. He looked over at her. She was no longer looking at the floor of the arena. Her hands were fisted in her lap, and her head was whipping around as if she were looking for someone.  
  
Suddenly, Gend roared, throwing himself recklessly at the Jedi, his strokes now wild and careless. The Jedi easily parried them, his sword a blur, his shield rising and falling to deflect every blow. Then, for years afterward, Diomis would play over and over in his mind what happened next.  
  
As the Jedi advanced on Gend, his sword swinging, Jonica kept looking around the arena. Then, suddenly, the Jedi froze, a look of surprise on his face. He was motionless only for a second, but it was enough. Gend, who had been desperately parrying the Jedi's attack, stared at him, then, a wide smile on his face, thrust his sword deep into Kenobi's chest.  
  
Two screams ripped through the air. One was Jonica's as she leapt from her seat, but his wife's scream was one of triumph as Gend jerked his sword out of the Jedi's chest, blood spurting from the wound.  
  
The other scream was of despair and horror, and it came from Onara who was struggling as both the beast and the four-armed woman tried to restrain her for it looked as if she meant to throw herself from her seat and onto the floor to where the Jedi, having now collapsed to his knees, his sword and shield falling from his hands, gazed up at her, his light-colored eyes seeming to blaze within his face.  
  
As for Diomis, he could only stare in shock at the Jedi, the blood pouring from his chest as he gazed longingly up at Onara. No, a voice inside him insisted. This was not the way it should have happened. Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong. The Jedi would not have been so foolish as to leave himself open like that. The Jedi should have won. Something had happened to him. But what?  
  
Then, like the pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place, it all clicked together in Diomis' mind; his half-brother's absence, Jonica's worried, searching looks around the arena, the Jedi's mysterious moment of paralysis. And, as Diomis watched Gend prepare to take Kenobi's head, something he had bragged about doing just that morning, as Onara wailed and screamed as if she were going to die of heartbreak---like his mother had all those years ago----as Jonica stared down, looking more like some carrion creature, her gaze ravenous, waiting for the final blow that would ensure she would live the rest of life in hedonistic pleasure, Diomis was never really sure why he did what he did at that moment. Maybe, he later reflected, he had done it for his mother.  
  
Just as Gend grabbed the Jedi's hair, exposing Kenobi's throat so he could cut off his head, Diomis leapt to his feet.  
  
"Kindai!" he shouted.  
  
The ancient Ahjanese word, which meant surrender in the old tongue, rang around the arena. Gend's head snapped up at his father's voice, his eyes burning with both bloodlust and surprise. Jonica gasped, then grabbed his arm, shaking him.  
  
"What are you doing?" she screeched.  
  
Diomis shook off her arm and glared down at her. "What did you do, Jonica?"  
  
"What you should have done if you'd had the stomach for it," she hissed, speaking loud enough for only for him to hear her. "But you and your pathetic sense of honor," she sneered. "Now, we've lost it all. And it's because of you. You weak idiot!"  
  
Diomis struggled to hold in his rage, because all he wanted to do was put his hands around Jonica's neck and strangle her.  
  
"My brother had something to do with this, didn't he? The two of you disgust me!"  
  
Jonica's face twisted into a paroxysm of rage. "You fool! You utter fool!"  
  
"Silence!" Diomis roared.  
  
He looked over at Lorus and Jamor. Lorus was staring at him, his black eyes wide with shock, but, Diomis thought he saw a hint of approval on Jamor's face as the stout Ryjast looked back at him. Diomis turned back to the arena floor.  
  
Gend still had Kenobi by the hair and only his hold on him was keeping the Jedi upright. He was losing a lot of blood, his face now as white as the sands upon which he had fought so valiantly, so nobly.  
  
"Does the Lenor family concede?" the arbiter called out from where he sat, gazing up at Diomis.  
  
Diomis nodded, unable to say the words. The arbiter turned and gestured for Gend to step away from Kenobi. Diomis watched as his son wavered, the arm with the sword in it trembling with its need to strike. He still wanted the Jedi's head, but it was over now. It was over.  
  
"Release him!" the arbiter cried out.  
  
Gend stared up at his father, then angrily threw down his sword and released the Jedi who tumbled to the ground. Without a backward look, Gend stalked from the arena and exited through one of the doors. As for Jonica, she looked as if she now wanted her husband's head instead of the Jedi's. Diomis glared down at her. Let her try, he thought. Let her try.  
  
Then he turned and looked back at the arena floor. Onara had made her way down there and was now cradling the Jedi's head in her lap, his blood soaking her red dress, her black hair a curtain about his pale face. Simtro was with her, as were her two alien companions. Then he saw healers dashing across the sand, an anti-grav stretcher between them.  
  
Even as the healers gently lifted Kenobi off the ground and onto the stretcher, Onara tried to keep her hand on him, but Simtro and the four- armed woman eased her away, their arms about her. She walked between them, sobbing hysterically as they quickly followed the stretcher out of the arena.  
  
The Assembly members began to move from their seats, and, as their voices rose into the now sweltering late morning air, Diomis knew they were discussing what had just happened. Jonica gave him one last angry look, then turned and left him, pushing her way through the Assembly members who were exiting the arena.  
  
Soon, only Diomis was left and, as he stared at the pool of the Jedi's blood on the white sand, he contemplated what he had lost and what Onara had lost. There was no way the Jedi would survive. The wound was clearly a fatal one. If Diomis had kept silent, Gend would now be the winner and Onara would be his, along with all her possessions.  
  
But, Diomis had lost all that because of the promise he had made to a woman long dead. A promise he had found difficult to keep, until, strangely enough, this day. Then he shrugged. He would find another way to get the resources he needed to achieve his goals. Onara, however, could never replace what she had lost. He turned and left the arena.  
  
---------------  
  
Far away, thousands of parsecs from Ahjane, Anakin Skywalker was standing behind his master, trying not to look bored as Nygee droned on to the Legate of Harkit about treaties and accords and contracts. His robe was heavy and hot on his shoulders as it was very warm in the reception hall. Then, suddenly, he felt both a disturbance in the Force and a sharp pain in his chest.  
  
He cried out. Nygee whipped around, irritation on his long, green-skinned face. But it soon turned to concern as Anakin doubled over.  
  
"Padawan, what is it?" Nygee cried.  
  
Anakin looked up, aware the Legate and his advisors were also gazing worriedly at him.  
  
"Master Obi-Wan," Anakin gasped, tears welling in his eyes. "Master Obi- Wan."  
  
To be continued... 


	18. Part Eighteen

Hi! Sorry for the long time between posts. Darth Real Life is intruding into my life again, so I won't be posting as often as I did at first with this fic, but I'll do my best to get posts up when I can. Thanks for reading! :)  
  
In Love and War - Part Eighteen  
  
-----------------  
  
Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a low wooden ceiling, its beams of a warm golden color inlaid with red maple. He turned his head. He was lying in a bed underneath a heavy coverlet woven of bright colors; reds and yellows and greens. Soft white pillows were arranged comfortably behind his head. Looking around he saw a window. It was open and through it he saw blue sky, fluffy white clouds and what looked like green hills in the distance.  
  
Puzzlement flared through him. He was not in Onara's manor. Or at least, if he was, it was a room he was unfamiliar with. The last thing he remembered was the sharp, tearing agony when Gend stabbed him in the chest and Onara's face as she screamed and cried out for him. He slowly sat up, expecting to feel pain in his chest, but there was nothing. He looked down.  
  
He was wearing a light blue linen shirt and, as he opened it, he saw no wound, no scar. He frowned. Then he jumped when the door to the room opened. A dark-haired, dark-eyed woman walked into the room and, for a moment, happiness surged through him. But then he saw the woman was a plumper than Onara and a few decades older. Upon seeing he was awake she smiled and walked over.  
  
"How are you feeling?" She placed a warm hand on his forehead.  
  
"Fine." The woman seemed familiar to Obi-Wan in some way, but he was certain he'd never seen her before.  
  
"That's good." Then, apparently noting Obi-Wan's expression and the uncertainty in his voice, she gave him a wide smile. "You don't know who I am, do you?"  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head. "But you do seem familiar to me."  
  
The woman tilted her head. Her dark hair was braided and wrapped around her head. "In what way?"  
  
"I don't know. I just feel as if I should know you."  
  
The woman nodded and was silent for a moment. Then she reached over and took Obi-Wan's hand. "I'm your mother, Obi-Wan."  
  
"My mother? But, how, where...?"  
  
The woman squeezed his hand. "My name is Bri-Yan. Bri-Yan Kenobi."  
  
"My mother?" Awe and surprise filled Obi-Wan.  
  
The woman smiled and nodded. She reached up and cupped his face. "What a handsome young man you are. You look just like your father when he was your age."  
  
"My father? Is he here?"  
  
"Yes, he's here. He'll be in shortly."  
  
"But, I don't understand. Where did you come from? Where am I? What's happened?"  
  
Bri-Yan sighed. But, before she could answer a man walked through the door holding the hand of a small boy. Looking at the man as he drew closer, Obi- Wan felt as if he were looking at himself, but years in the future. The man had red-gold hair, though most of it was white, and blue-gray eyes.  
  
Then, as Obi-Wan looked at the boy who was holding the hand of the man, his heart lurched in his chest. "Ben!"  
  
Ben smiled and, letting go of the man's hand, ran over and crawled onto the bed. He threw his arms around Obi-Wan's neck. Joy filled the Jedi as he held that small, warm body in his arms, tears welling in his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. Then, it hit him. He pulled away and looked at his son. Ben's blue-gray eyes were shining with happiness and love. Obi-Wan looked over at the man who he assumed was his father.  
  
The man nodded and smiled. "Yes, I'm your father. "My name is Nes-Lon."  
  
"But...." Obi-Wan stopped and looked over at Ben, then back over at his parents. He took a breath and released it. "I'm dead, aren't I?"  
  
His parents exchanged a look. Nes-Lon walked over and gently took Ben from Obi-Wan, holding him in his arms as he sat in a nearby chair. Bri-Yan sat on the side of the bed. She took Obi-Wan's hand again.  
  
Her expression was gentle as she gazed down at Obi-Wan. "What's the last thing you remember?"  
  
Obi-Wan told her of his fight in the arena with Gend and the sword plunging through his chest.  
  
Bri-Yan nodded as he finished. Then she sighed. "You're not dead, dear. At least not yet. You're between life and death. In a place of transition."  
  
Obi-Wan swallowed as he looked at the woman who was his mother, the man who was his father and at Ben who was still smiling over at him.  
  
"But, you and my father..." Obi-Wan could not finish the words.  
  
His mother patted his hand. "Yes, dear. Your father and I passed on some years ago."  
  
Tears filled Obi-Wan's eyes again and his voice trembled. "I didn't know. I didn't know."  
  
"Of course you didn't, dear." Bri-Yan smiled warmly, stroking his cheek. "We understood when we gave you up to the Jedi that you would not be allowed to know of us."  
  
"But, but..." Obi-Wan stopped, swallowing hard.  
  
All his life he had never really given any thought as to who his parents were; what kind of people they had been or what had happened to them. From the day he was conscious of himself as a separate being the Jedi Order had been his one and only family. He frowned. Suddenly, it didn't feel right to him not to have known his parents and he wondered, perhaps, if the Jedi Order's practice of taking children from their families was a good one. He looked up at his mother, into her warm brown eyes and kind face. He would have liked to have known her, he realized. And his father too.  
  
Obi-Wan gently gripped his mother's hand. "Is this a dream?"  
  
Bri-Yan looked over at her husband. The two exchanged a look, then Bri-Yan turned back to Obi-Wan. "I can't quite explain what this is, Obi-Wan. But I can assure you, it's not a dream."  
  
"But, if you're dead, how did you die?"  
  
Bri-Yan shook her head. "It doesn't matter, dear. And I'm afraid we don't have much time. As I told you before, you're in transition. But, perhaps..." She stopped and bit her lip, looking over at her husband. He nodded, handing Ben to her.  
  
"I'll get him." He rose from the chair.  
  
"Hurry, we don't have much time."  
  
Obi-Wan's father left the room. Bri-Yan, with Ben now comfortably settled in her lap, kissed the top of his thick, black hair. He giggled and snuggled deeper in her arms. She looked over at Obi-Wan, smiling warmly as she held her grandson.  
  
Obi-Wan smiled at them both. "Ben lives here with you?"  
  
"Yes. And he's every bit of a scamp too." Bri-Yan tickled Ben under his arms.  
  
Ben giggled again, then looked over at Obi-Wan, his expression soft and sad.  
  
"I miss Mama."  
  
"She misses you too." Obi-Wan reached over and took Ben's hand. "As do I."  
  
"Is Obi-Wan okay?"  
  
"Oh, yes, he's fine. Jiah gives me grubs to feed him with every morning."  
  
Ben smiled. Then he and Bri-Yan turned as Nes-Lon returned. Obi-Wan gasped when he saw who was coming in behind his father.  
  
"Master? Master Qui-Gon?"  
  
Qui-Gon smiled as he ducked in order to enter the low-ceilinged room. "Yes, Obi-Wan. It's me"  
  
Obi-Wan couldn't believe his eyes. This had to be some kind of dream. But if it was a dream it was a good one, and he found himself hoping it would never end. Qui-Gon walked over to the side of the bed. He reached over and tousled Ben's dark hair with his large hand. Ben smiled up at him. Then Qui- Gon looked warmly down at Obi-Wan.  
  
Obi-Wan still couldn't believe his eyes. "Master, please, what's going on?"  
  
"I wish I had time to explain everything to you, Obi-Wan, but as your mother noted we don't have much time." Qui-Gon tilted his head, his eyes shining with a mischievous light. "And remember, Padawan, you were never one for discussion of Jedi metaphysics. But, what I can tell you in the brief time we have is that you are within the Force, but in a state between life and death.  
  
"We..." Qui-Gon stopped and smiled at Bri-Yan, Nes-Lon and Ben, "...have already become one with the Force. The way you see us at the present is not what we really are, but it is the only way we could appear to you that would make sense since your mind is still bound to the dimension of matter and flesh. Where and how we truly exist, however, is beyond space, beyond time, beyond what you conceive of as reality."  
  
Obi-Wan understood some of what Qui-Gon was saying to him, but his former master was right. He had never been one for truly understanding Jedi metaphysics. But, because in his heart he sensed what Qui-Gon was telling him was true, he did not question it.  
  
"Why am I here, Master? Why haven't I passed on?"  
  
"I'm not sure, Obi-Wan. As I told you when I was alive, the ways of the Force are often beyond our comprehension. We must, therefore, retain our faith that all will unfold as it was meant to be. That is the way of the Jedi."  
  
Obi-Wan lowered his head, suddenly ashamed to look his former master in the eyes. "I'm no longer a Jedi, Master."  
  
Qui-Gon reached over and touched Obi-Wan's chin, lifting his face. "You will always be a Jedi, Padawan. Remember that. And I know and approve of what you did and why you did it. I served the Living Force all my life but one of its purest and most sublime facets I never had the pleasure to experience. I'm glad you've had a chance to know what it is to love someone and be loved in return. Therefore, don't worry, Obi-Wan. I'm very proud of you. And I always will be."  
  
"That's right, son." Nes-Lon smiled at Obi-Wan from where he stood at the foot of his bed. "Your mother and I are very proud of you too. Very proud."  
  
Obi-Wan felt a burning heaviness in his chest. But it wasn't his apparently non-existent stab wound. He looked at his beloved master, the parents he had never known, and his precious son. If he passed on he too would become one with the Force and he could remain with them all. Forever.  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, Obi-Wan. You must go back."  
  
"Back?"  
  
Qui-Gon slowly nodded. "There is still much for you to do. And Onara. She needs you."  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes widened. Seeing his expression, Qui-Gon laughed softly. "Yes, I know of her." He looked over at Ben, who smiled widely at him. "Ben has told me all about her. I understand she's the most beautiful Mama in the galaxy."  
  
Ben nodded eagerly, grinning. "She is."  
  
Obi-Wan smiled at his son. Then he looked at Qui-Gon. "It's not time for me, is it?"  
  
"No, not yet, Padawan. The Force, it seems, has other plans for you. But, at least you can put your heart at rest. As you can see Ben is very happy here. And your parents now have a chance to spend time with a part of you."  
  
"Yes, dear, Qui-Gon is right. Your father and I are so happy having Ben with us. We now have a chance to...to..." Bri-Yan stopped, her throat working. Her husband put his hand on her shoulder. She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked back at Obi-Wan. "You mustn't punish yourself anymore for the choice you made regarding Ben. Just as I had to stop punishing myself for the decision I made in giving you up, so must you forgive yourself for the choice you made."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded at his mother's words, utterly aware now of the pain it must have cost her to give him up to the Jedi. He reached for her, and, with Ben between them, hugged her gently. Then Bri-Yan pulled away, leaving Ben in Obi-Wan's arms.  
  
Obi-Wan held him tight, his need to never let go of his son like a burning in his heart. "I love you so much, Ben. I don't want to leave you."  
  
"I love you too, Papa. But don't worry. We'll be together again someday"  
  
"Promise?"  
  
Ben nodded, his soft, warm cheek rubbing against Obi-Wan's neck. "I promise, Papa."  
  
He pulled away and looked in Obi-Wan's face, his little face serious. "Papa?"  
  
"Yes, Ben?"  
  
"Please tell Mama not to cry anymore. I don't like it when she cries. And tell her not to pray for me to come back. I can't come back. But I'll wait for her. I'll wait for her forever. Tell her Grandpa and Grandma are taking good care of me, so she shouldn't worry about me anymore."  
  
Obi-Wan squeezed Ben tight, his throat closing. "I will, son. I'll tell her."  
  
He held his son a moment longer, than, reluctantly, released him. Ben went back to Bri-Yan who took him in her arms. She rose from the side of Obi- Wan's bed, then stood next to her husband The three of hem looked over at Obi-wan.  
  
Bri-Yan's dark eyes filled with tears. "Goodbye, my darling son. Be well, be safe."  
  
"Goodbye....Mother." Obi-Wan's heart lurched in his chest as he called her that.  
  
Les-Non gazed tenderly over at Obi-Wan with his blue-gray eyes, the same eyes he shared with Ben who waved goodbye. Then, before Obi-Wan could say anything more, the three began to glow, becoming a dazzling ball of white that shone as brightly as the sun then slowly disappeared. The room was now darker and colder to Obi-Wan. He looked up at Qui-Gon.  
  
"Master, will I see them again?"  
  
"Yes, Obi-Wan, you will. Although..." The Jedi Master's lips quirked, "...the words 'see them' isn't quite accurate. But you will be with them again. Just not yet."  
  
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Master, you know I was never much for Jedi metaphysics. But I will take you at your word. As I always have."  
  
Qui-Gon laughed. Then his face suddenly turned solemn. He leaned toward Obi- Wan.  
  
"Listen carefully, Obi-Wan. There is a great deal ahead of you and I wish I had time to counsel you on it, but much of what is coming is unknown even to me. However, I do can tell you this. When you or Onara are given the promise of a resurrection, refuse it, for it will be a false one."  
  
Obi-Wan frowned. "Resurrection? Master, I don't under---"  
  
"I can say no more. We have run out of time." Qui-Gon stepped back, folding his arms within the sleeves of his dark brown robe. "Tell Onara especially what I have just said. She will be the most vulnerable, I fear, to the enticement of the false resurrection."  
  
A smile replaced Qui-Gon's somber expression and, like Obi-Wan's parents and Ben, he too began to glow, dissipating into light.  
  
Obi-Wan reached out to him. "No, Master, please, don't go. Don't leave me again."  
  
Qui-Gon's bodiless voice echoed through the room. "We will meet again, Padawan. May the Force be with you."  
  
There was a sudden blaze of light, more powerful and brilliant than the light that had encompassed Ben and Obi-Wan's parents, then Qui-Gon too was gone.  
  
Obi-Wan was alone. He sensed darkness creeping around the edges of the room. Then, suddenly, the bed beneath him disappeared and he fell. He fell through cold and darkness and the howling winds of what he recognized as the Abyss. He was being pulled back. Back into light, back into love, back into life.  
  
----------------  
  
Onara shivered. Cold had seeped into her body, into her blood, into her bones from the moment she saw Gend plunge his sword into Obi-Wan's chest, saw the look of pain and shock on her beloved's face, saw the blood spurting from his chest. And since then she had been cold, so terribly cold, and nothing, nothing could warm her. Not the cup of tea Auna had forced into her shaking hands, not the blanket Simtro had put around her shivering shoulders and now, not even Zaka's thick warm fur as he held her close. She would never be warm again, she feared.  
  
The healers had thought she was going into shock, with Simtro fearful she was entering another _yanol_, but Onara had assured him she was not and had refused any offer of a sedative from the healers for she wanted to be conscious in case Obi-Wan needed her. Only his arms could warm her again. And he was dying.  
  
The four were in the waiting area in one of the finest medical facilities in the capital. They had been there for hours, waiting for word on Obi- Wan's condition as the healers worked frantically to save his life. Onara whimpered as she recalled the healer's words. _Massive injury. Internal bleeding. Unable to stop it. Doing the best we can, but I can't lie to you, Lady Onara. I can't lie._  
  
The words echoed in Onara's mind, low and sonorous, like a dirge sung by phantoms. No, please lie to me she had wanted to say. Please lie and tell me he's going to be all right. She clenched Zaka's fur, the tears welling behind her eyelids. _They have to do better, they must do better. He can't die. He mustn't die. Please, not again. Not again._  
  
"Don't cry, Nara." Zaka's deep, gravely voice boomed from within his massive chest. "The Je-di is strong. His love for you is strong. He will not die. He will not leave you."  
  
Onara opened her eyes, the tears spilling from them. She looked up into the long, broad face of the Whiphid, at his massive tusks and long black eyes. Even now, after knowing him these past few months, a primitive, genetic memory insisted she should fear him for he looked as if it would take no effort at all for him to rend her into pieces with his huge tusks and long, sharp claws.  
  
But never had she met a more gentle being. When nothing the others had done could stop her from shaking, he had taken her into his arms, like a father comforting a child. But the coldness, despite the warmth of Zaka's thick fur and huge body, had settled into her like an eternal winter. Only Obi- Wan, alive and well, his beautiful eyes gazing into hers, could bring back spring.  
  
She nestled her cheek deep into Zaka's fur. "Thank you, Zaka. Thank you for being here, for being such a good friend."  
  
"Zaka will always be Nara's friend. Always be Je-di's friend."  
  
Onara tried to hug him, but she could only get her arms partway around his massive chest. Then she looked over to where Auna was still pacing across the floor. The Codru-Ji woman had not stopped moving, her four arms swinging in rhythm with her body. Onara knew that not only was Auna as worried about Obi-Wan as she was, but it was her pent-up frustration and need to do something, anything, that was keeping her from remaining still. At the arena, it was all Zaka could do to stop her from going after Gend and, as she had put it, ripping his stinking heart out with her hands.  
  
As for Simtro, the elderly majordomo sat on the other side of Onara. She turned and put her hand on his where they were folded in his lap. She had thought he was sleeping. His gray head was bowed and his eyes closed, but then she saw his wrinkled lips moving. He was praying. But, at the touch of her hand, he opened his eyes and looked over at her.  
  
"Onara." He smiled, taking her hand and, noting how cold it was, rubbed it between his own palsied hands.  
  
Onara returned his smile, but she was suddenly struck by how old Simtro was. He had been old when she was a child, but he had always been so hale and strong of spirit. Now she saw the years were heavy on him. Would she lose him too, she wondered. Would she lose everyone she loved?  
  
The door to the waiting area flew open. Auna stopped pacing and whipped around, her quartet of arms raised as if she were about to do battle with whomever or whatever was coming into the room. But it was only one of the healers, a tall, thin woman named Inida.  
  
"Lady Onara, Lady Onara." The healer quickly approached her.  
  
Onara's heart slammed in her chest. _No, please, no._  
  
Inida stopped and reached out to her. "Please, come with me, my lady."  
  
"Is he...Is he..?" Onara stopped, unable to say anymore.  
  
"Come with me, please, Lady Onara."  
  
Onara nodded. She moved away from Zaka and rose from the chair. She was still shaking. Zaka made to get up and follow her, but the healer shook her head as she put her arm around Onara's shoulder.  
  
"Please, the rest of you, remain here."  
  
"What's going on?" Auna's voiced echoed through the waiting room, but the healer ignored her as she hustled Onara away, down the hall and into another room.  
  
Upon entering the room Onara had trouble seeing. The hallway had been bright and the lights in the room were low, but she was able to make out Obi-Wan. He lay in a bed, softly beeping machines surrounding him. Onara let out a soft cry and ran over to him, Inida behind her.  
  
"Is he...?" A sob tore at Onara's throat as she looked down at his still, pale face.  
  
"No, my Lady. He's not." Onara heard the wonder in the healer's voice. "But he should be. By all that I know of medicine he should be. As I told you before we couldn't stop the bleeding. We were losing him. And then...." Inida shook her head in amazement. ".... he came back. He just came back. The bleeding stopped and we were able to get him stabilized enough to finish the operation. He's going to be fine, my Lady. Just fine."  
  
Onara collapsed at the side of Obi-Wan's bed, tears streaming down her face. Inida quickly knelt next to her. "My Lady, are you all right?"  
  
Onara was shaking so hard it felt as if all the bones in her body were rattling. The coldness was gone, but she hadn't realized how desperately she had been clinging to her hope that Obi-Wan would not die. Relief had surged through her at the healer's words, along with an almost insane joy, and, for a moment, it had weakened her. She felt the healer's hands on her shoulders, rubbing them gently, helping her up.  
  
"I'm fine. Thank you." Onara stood, willing herself to stop shaking.  
  
Obi-Wan was going to live, but she could see he was weak from his ordeal. He would need her now, need her to be strong for him just as he had been strong for her when she had been at her weakest while in the _yanol_.  
  
Inida let go of Onara's shoulders. "He'll have to stay here a few days so we can monitor his condition."  
  
Onara nodded as she put her hand over Obi-Wan's where it lay on the bed. "I don't care what it costs, whatever he needs---."  
  
"Don't worry, my Lady. We'll take good care of him."  
  
She gave Onara a reassuring smile, then turned and left the room. Onara, no longer shaking, no longer trembling, the coldness having left her, reached over and gently stroked Obi-Wan's hair. His eyes remained closed, the lashes thick against his cheeks.  
  
"My love, my sweet, sweet love." Onara leaned down and kissed his forehead, his closed eyes, his cheeks. She rose up, gently wiping at her tears where they had fallen upon his face, reveling in the sweet pulse and warmth of his skin underneath her fingertips.  
  
Then, slowly, Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked up at her. Onara gasped, having feared she would never look into them again, into their extraordinary blue-gray color that still amazed her.  
  
Obi-Wan smiled softly. "Onara. You're here."  
  
"Yes, my darling. I'm here. I'm here." Onara's voice was so filled with tears she could barely speak.  
  
"Love?"  
  
Onara had to lean close for his voice was very frail. "Yes, my darling?"  
  
"May we...marry now?"  
  
Onara burst into both tears and laughter. "Oh, yes, my love, yes! We can marry now. Nothing can stop us. Nothing. Whenever you want, whenever you're ready."  
  
Obi-Wan looked up at her, a mischievous light in his eyes. "Ready...now."  
  
Onara laughed. She took his hand and kissed it, her tears splashing on it. "So am I, my love. So am I. But you must rest first. When you're well enough, we'll marry. And no one will stop us. No one. And if anyone dares to try, why I'll...I'll...rip out his or her stinking heart with my bare hands."  
  
"Sound like...Auna." Obi-Wan weakly shook his head and smiled. "Bad influence...that woman."  
  
Onara smiled as she leaned over and kissed him. She felt him trying to return her kiss, but she knew he was so drained from his injury and the operation. She pressed her lips softly against his, then pulled away.  
  
"Rest, darling, please rest." She stroked his hair, the side of his face.  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes suddenly grew serious as he gazed up at her. "Must tell...you something, Onara. Dream...I had."  
  
"Later, love. You can tell me later. You need to rest now. Sleep, just sleep."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes...tired. So very tired." His eyes began to close, but then he opened them and looked up at her.  
  
"Love...you."  
  
Onara swallowed in a tight throat, her heart soaring, for she had feared she would never hear him say those words to her again.  
  
"I love you, my darling." She leaned over and kissed him again. "I'm going to take care of you, Obi-Wan. So don't worry about anything. Just rest. And then, once you're well and strong again, we'll marry."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
Onara smiled. He looked and sounded like a small boy as he gazed up at her. She pressed her fingers against her lips, then placed them against his. "I promise. Now rest, darling. Rest."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded and slowly closed his eyes. He was soon asleep. Onara wanted to stay with him, but she had to let the others know he was all right. She leaned over, gently kissed his forehead, then turned and left his room. And, as she walked, than ran down the hallway she felt spring returning to her heart and she was cold no longer.  
  
To be continued... 


	19. Part Nineteen

In Love and War - Part Nineteen  
  
-------------------  
  
Diomis slammed the stunner onto the desk. Gend, who had been staring belligerently at his father, his arms crossed over his chest, jumped at the sound. As did Jonica who was on the other side of the room. The three were in Diomis' study. It was the evening of the day of the challenge.  
  
Diomis had spent most of the morning and afternoon after the challenge taking care of some business in the capital. But it had been difficult to keep his mind on his affairs as he played over in his mind the events of that morning. Once he finally made it back to his estate he had gone in search of Faren and, after spending a fruitful, if somewhat bloody hour with his half-brother had learned the truth of what had happened in the arena.  
  
Diomis pointed at the weapon and frowned at Gend. "Do you recognize it?"  
  
Gend walked over and picked it up. "Of course I do. It's my microwave stunner. I bought it earlier this year."  
  
Diomis glanced over at his wife. Jonica was putting up a good front, a haughty expression on her face, but he saw the apprehension in her eyes. He looked back at Gend.  
  
"And what does this stunner do?"  
  
Gend shrugged. "It fires a coherent blast of microwave energy which disrupts the neural system of the target, rendering it immobile."  
  
Diomis nodded. "Rendering the target immobile. For how long?"  
  
Gend shrugged again. "Depends." He pointed to a dial on the side of the stunner. "See this? These levels indicate the strength of the blast. The lower the number, the smaller the amount of the charge, the less time your target remains immobile."  
  
"And what's the least amount of time a target can remain immobile."  
  
"The least?" Gend tilted his head as he examined the weapon. "A second or so."  
  
Diomis wondered if Gend was just playing the fool or if he really didn't see where this was going. "I found this weapon with your uncle."  
  
Jonica made a low sound, but Diomis ignored her, keeping his eyes on Gend.  
  
"Uncle Faren? What was he doing with it? He knows he's not allowed to touch my weapons. No one is allowed to touch them."  
  
"He used it. This morning. At the challenge."  
  
Gend frowned. "At the challenge? But he wasn't there. He was home sick."  
  
Diomis finally came to the conclusion that Gend really didn't know what had happened. He looked over at Jonica. She was staring wide-eyed at him now. He looked back at his son.  
  
"No, Gend. He was not home sick. He was at the arena. Hidden in the stands. And he used this weapon on the Jedi. Which is why you were able to kill him."  
  
Gend glared at his father. "Yes, and we would have won if you hadn't surrendered the challenge."  
  
Rage surged through Diomis. "Idiot! Don't you see? If Faren had not immobilized the Jedi with this weapon, you would not have been able to wound him. He was going to win. You're the one who should be dead, not him."  
  
"That's not true! I was better than he was!"  
  
Diomis released a heavy sigh. "No, Gend. You were not. He could have you killed you. He should have killed you. But he didn't."  
  
"I don't believe you." Gend gripped the stunner so hard it looked as if he meant to crush it between his fingers.  
  
"You don't?" Diomis shifted his eyes over to his wife. "You believe your mother, don't you? Tell her, Jonica. Tell your son the truth."  
  
Jonica walked over, her hands clasped in front of her. She gave Diomis a quick, angry glance then turned to Gend. Placing her hands on his arms, she gazed up at her son. He looked down at her, his dark eyes questioning.  
  
"Is it true, Mother? Did you and Uncle Faren do this thing?"  
  
"Yes, we did, but only to protect you. I wasn't sure if the Jedi would hold to his promise and not use his powers."  
  
Gend shook his arm free of her hands. "How could you, Mother! I wanted to beat him. Me, myself. I didn't need your help. I didn't ask for it."  
  
Jonica's eyes suddenly flared. "This isn't about you, Gend, or your vanity or your pride. It's about the survival of our family."  
  
Gend laughed bitterly. "No, Mother. It is about vanity and pride. Your vanity, your pride. You shamed me, Mother. You didn't trust me enough to let me do this on my own. I would have defeated the Jedi. I didn't need your help. I didn't want it!"  
  
Turning, the stunner in his hand, Gend strode from the study, slamming the door behind him. Jonica whirled on Diomis, her eyes blazing.  
  
"You fool! Why did you have to interfere? Why couldn't you have just let things go the way they were meant to? What happened to you this morning? What changed you?"  
  
Diomis moved away from his desk, from her, and walked over to the window of his study. He looked out at the setting sun, the rays gold and orange and red as they slanted across the dark hills, his wife's questions reverberating in his mind.  
  
Yes, what had happened to him this morning? Why had he done what he did? Part of it had been because of his mother and his memory of the promise she had tried to exact from him to be a honorable man. But it was more than just that he suspected.  
  
If not for his actions, Onara would be preparing for her wedding to Gend instead of the burial of her love. Then Diomis found himself recalling the way she had gazed at Obi-Wan before the challenge, the depth of her love for him as palpable as a caress. Then he remembered the shock and horror on her beautiful face when Gend stabbed the Jedi in the chest with his sword. Diomis winced, still hearing Onara's heart-rending cries of grief and sorrow.  
  
"It's her, isn't it? I saw the way you looked at her this morning." Jonica's voice cut through the air like the blade of a dagger, thin and sharp. "You want her. That's why you did what you did. You don't want her to marry Gend. You want her for yourself. It's not just her money you lust after now, is it? It's her. You want in her bed, don't you? Don't you! But you just have to think of a way to kick me out of it."  
  
Diomis turned from the window. Jonica stood in front of his desk, her hands clenched at her side, her smooth, ageless face rigid with rage. She was still beautiful as a result of all her surgeries and her drugs, but only on the outside. There was nothing inside her now, nothing warm or loving or tender. Once there had been, but that was many years ago. And, at that moment, Diomis realized what little love he had for her was gone.  
  
"You and I stopped sharing a bed years ago, Jonica. I don't have to kick you out of it."  
  
Jonica moved around the desk. She walked over to where he stood at the window, then stopped and looked up at him.  
  
"With the Jedi dead, you can have her." Her eyes were bright with a fervid light. "Have her wealth, have her body, have everything. But you just need to get me out of the way. And Gend, you'll disinherit him too, won't you? Give everything to the brats you hope to have with that cow-eyed hussy."  
  
Diomis looked down into his wife's cold, hate-filled eyes. She was mad, he decided. Had driven herself mad with her lust and her greed and her envy of anyone who was more beautiful than her. As Onara most certainly was.  
  
"Get out, Jonica, before I throw you out." Then he sneered. "But, before you leave, go and give Faren the reward you promised him. He's waiting for it. Though, I fear..." and Diomis grinned wickedly, showing her one of his bruised knuckles. "....you may find him not quite up to it. But, I'm sure you'll make up for any shortcomings on his part."  
  
Jonica snarled and tried to slap him, but he grabbed her hand and squeezed her wrist. She cried out, struggling.  
  
"Leave, Jonica." Diomis' jaw throbbed with anger. "I want you and my cuckolding snake of a half-brother out of my house and out of my life. I've had enough of your lies, your deceit, and your infidelities. Enough! Do you understand?"  
  
"You can't throw me out. I won't leave. I won't!"  
  
"Oh, you most certainly will leave, my most dear and faithless wife. You'll leave tonight. I'll give you enough to at least live comfortably, though not in the style you're accustomed to. But, try and fight me on this, Jonica, and you'll get nothing."  
  
"I though you were penniless."  
  
Diomis smiled slyly down at her. "There's penniless and then there's penniless." He jerked her arm, then released her. "Now go. Leave before I do what I most desire to do and strangle you."  
  
Jonica rubbed her wrist where Diomis had squeezed it. Then she raised her head imperiously. "You'll not succeed with her. She'll hate you for having been a part of the Jedi's death. As far as she's concerned you're just as responsible for what happened to him as any of us."  
  
"Get out, Jonica."  
  
She stared at him for a moment, then turned, her back straight, her head high. Once the door closed behind her, Diomis slumped into the chair behind his desk. Jonica was mad with jealously and her words proved it. He had no intention of wooing Onara. Not only because Jonica was right and Onara would blame him for the Jedi's death, but because he had no such feelings for her. Or did he?  
  
He rubbed at his temple with the tips of his fingers. His head was throbbing. All the events of this day, the challenge, beating that confession out of his brother, his argument with Gend and Jonica had wearied him. He needed to sleep. He rose from his chair, but just as he was about to leave the study, the comm on his desk buzzed. He sat back down and activated it.  
  
A nasally voice came out of the speaker. "Sir, it's Jylor."  
  
Jylor was Diomis' point man in the capital. It was he who kept him abreast of everything that was happening as it related to Diomis' business affairs and his plans.  
  
"What is it, Jylor?"  
  
"I've news about the Jedi."  
  
"Really? When is his funeral to be held?"  
  
"Funeral? Sir, he's alive."  
  
Diomis leaned forward, his face inches from the speaker. "What? Alive?"  
  
"Yes, sir. My source at the hospital says he miraculously recovered on the operating table."  
  
"That's not possible. The wound Gend gave him was fatal."  
  
"If you say so, sir, but he's alive and it's been confirmed."  
  
Diomis mulled over this news for a moment. "What about Onara?"  
  
"She's still at the hospital, sir."  
  
"Thank you, Jylor."  
  
Jylor cut the communication. Diomis leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. So the Jedi lived. A corner of his mouth curled up. So much for wooing Onara. If, he course, he had even wanted to do such a thing.  
  
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Then he stared at the shadows growing in the corners of the study as the sun sank lower beneath the horizon. Perhaps, he thought, there was opportunity in this unexpected turn of events. He leaned over and pressed a button on his desk that connected him to the estate's hangar.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Ready my shuttle. I'm going to the capital."  
  
"Now, sir?"  
  
Diomis frowned darkly, aware the hangar mechanic couldn't see him, but certain he would hear the displeasure in his voice.  
  
"Yes, now! Have it ready when I arrive. Which will be in five minutes."  
  
"Yes...yes, sir. Of course, sir. It'll be ready."  
  
Diomis rose from his desk and strode out of the study and into the hall. He adjusted his jacket over his broad shoulders as he composed in his head what he would say to Onara when he saw her.  
  
--------------  
  
Anakin clenched his hands, willing himself not to reach out with the Force and use it to strangle Master Nygee, an act which would not only get him expelled from the Jedi Order, but arrested for murder. But it was proving more and more difficult for him to resist the temptation as he listened to Nygee droning on about duty and obligation and responsibility, his deep voice thrumming from within his narrow chest.  
  
As Anakin stared at Nygee, observing the tiny beads of sweat on his bald, green-skinned head, he imagined how he would do it. All he'd have to do was draw upon the Force, mold it within his mind, then direct its power at Master Nygee's long, thin neck, gripping his throat and cutting off the circulation of air to his lungs and blood to his brain. Then he could watch, with grim satisfaction, as Nygee gasped and struggled for breath.  
  
"Are you listening to me, Padawan Skywalker?"  
  
Anakin jumped and drew his attention back to Nygee. The Jedi Master's pale yellow eyes had narrowed.  
  
"Yes...yes, Master. I'm listening."  
  
Nygee stared at Anakin for a moment, folding his long thin arms within the sleeves of his robe. "Obi-Wan is no longer a Jedi. Your duty lies with our Order, not with him."  
  
"I know, Master, but---"  
  
Nygee shook his head. "No, Padawan. You can not go to Ahjane. I forbid it. We are going to Malastare, as the Council has ordered."  
  
Anakin frowned. Malastare was the homeworld of the Dugs and the last place in the galaxy he wanted to visit. Although Obi-Wan had often chastised him for judging all Dugs by his old pod-racing rival, Sebulba, Anakin couldn't help it. All Dugs were alike as far as he was concerned; selfish, cheating bullies, and he could care less if they and the Grans, who had settled on Malastare some years ago, were at each other's throats.  
  
Personally, he hoped the Grans wiped out the entire Dug race. All he wanted, all he could think about, besides Padmé and his mother, of course, was Obi-Wan. The pain he had felt had not been an illusion. It had been real. Something had happened to his former master. He could feel it.  
  
"Please, Master Nygee, if we could just stop by Ahjane. It's on the way."  
  
"It is most certainly not on the way." Nygee shook his head again. "The situation on Malastare requires our immediate attention. Now, pack your things and meet me at the starport."  
  
Nygee turned and, with a sharp swirl of his robes, left Anakin's room. Anakin released a heavy breath. Their mission here on Harkit was completed. The Legate had agreed to Master Nygee's terms regarding his planet's treaty with the Republic and Harkit was, at least for the present, one system that would not be going over to the Separatists. But there were still so many. More and more systems were joining the Confederacy every day.  
  
Soon the alarmists in the Senate would call for action on the creation of an army for the Republic. It was inevitable as the crisis within the galaxy grew. Anakin was well aware that there just weren't enough Jedi to fight if war were to come. And, as he had heard Master Windu say on more than one occasion, the Jedi were keepers of the peace, not soldiers.  
  
A vote would come soon and then, and Anakin felt his heart thudding in his chest, Padmé would come back. He longed so much to see her again, to look into her beautiful, dark eyes, hear her sweet voice, feel the touch of her soft hand on his. What he wouldn't do, what he wouldn't give, to be with her the way Obi-Wan was now with Onara.  
  
Then, thinking of his former master, Anakin was sharply reminded of the disturbance in the Force he had felt earlier, along with that searing pain in his chest. He glared at the door through which Master Nygee had walked. He didn't care if Obi-Wan was no longer a member of the Jedi Order. He had been more than just Anakin's master; he'd been a friend, a companion, and the closet thing he'd ever had to a father.  
  
Anakin turned and, picking his lightsaber from off a nearby table, clipped it to his belt. He looked around the room. He'd leave his things. More than likely, once he made it to Ahjane and the Council found out he'd disobeyed both them and Master Nygee, he too would share Master Obi-Wan's fate and find himself no longer a member of the Jedi Order.  
  
He hesitated as he mulled this over. All his life he'd wanted to be a Jedi Knight, had dreamed of it for as long as he could remember. He'd worked hard these past ten years to bring that dream to fruition. Now, to throw it all away when he was probably close to his Trials was, he knew, foolish. Then he smiled.  
  
A few years ago he and Obi-Wan had faced a group of heavily armed rebels on Pzob. Obi-Wan's plan, born out of desperation and an awareness that the longer they delayed, the more likely it was the rebels would blow up the embassy they were holed up in, killing all the civilians inside, was to charge the building.  
  
Even Anakin, who usually had no problem rushing in where angels feared to tread, had thought it a crazy plan but had said nothing, trusting, as he'd always done, in his master's experience and skill. But the captain of the Pzob's police force had called Obi-Wan a fool for even considering such a reckless strategy. Obi-Wan had only grinned, his blue-gray eyes shining with an atypical mischievous light.  
  
"Who is the more foolish, Captain?" he had said. "The fool or the fool who follows him?"  
  
Anakin drew on his robe and grumbled to himself as he strode out the door. "I must be the more foolish in this case, Master, because no matter where you go, no matter what you do, I will follow."  
  
To be continued.... 


	20. Part Twenty

In Love and War - Part Twenty  
  
-----------------------  
  
Auna yawned hugely. What a day. She yawned again as she followed Zaka and Simtro out of the hospital. She couldn't wait to get back to the manor and collapse into bed. As they walked over to the shuttle, she drew in a deep breath of the cool, night air. It helped to alleviate some of her tiredness, but not all of it. But she knew she could rest easy now.  
  
Obi-Wan was going to live and that was all that mattered. What would happen tomorrow or the day after she did not trouble herself with. Obi-Wan was alive and that thought put her heart to rest. Then, just as she was about to get into the driver's seat of the speeder, Zaka suddenly roared and, turning, raced back to the hospital.  
  
"What the---?" Auna turned and watched as the Whiphid hotfooted it back into the hospital.  
  
Simtro, who had pressed open the passenger door, stared wide-eyed and gape- mouthed at Auna. "What's wrong?"  
  
Auna shook her head. "Not sure. Why don't ya stay here and I'll go get him. Onara told us all to go home so I don't know what's gotten into him."  
  
Simtro nodded wearily. If Auna was exhausted, the major-domo looked close to death he was so tired. She made sure he was comfortably inside the speeder, then, following Zaka, ran back into the hospital.  
  
-----------------------------  
  
Onara carefully balanced the tray of food she had gotten from the hospital cafeteria in her hands. The cafeteria had been closed but one of the staff people had let her in upon recognizing her as Ahjane's former senator. There hadn't been much to choose from, but Onara hadn't been terribly hungry. She had only gone to the cafeteria because she had promised Auna and Simtro she would eat something.  
  
Now, as she turned the corner and went down the hallway her stomach rumbled. She wondered if she should have gotten more food. Then she stopped, her throat constricting. Diomis was standing in front of Obi-Wan's room.  
  
What was he doing here? Onara gripped the tray and it wobbled in her hands. Then she was suddenly back in the arena, watching Gend's sword sinking into Obi-Wan's chest. The sick horror she had felt was like bile in her mouth. Then her eyes narrowed and she ran down the hall. Perhaps the father had come to finish the son's job.  
  
At the sound of her hurried footsteps, Diomis, who had been peering at the number above the door of Obi-Wan's room, turned and faced her. His bronze colored eyes bored into hers as she stopped in front of him. Then, shocking Onara down to her bones, he smiled at her.  
  
"Lady Onara." He bowed deeply.  
  
"Lord Diomis." Onara was surprised her voice sounded so normal since her heart was pounding so hard she wondered he couldn't hear it. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I came to see you. And your Jedi, of course."  
  
Onara eased around Diomis until she stood in front of Obi-Wan's door, holding the tray in front of her like a shield. "It's late and visiting hours are over."  
  
Diomis tilted his head, his long, black, gray-streaked hair swinging across his broad shoulders. "Indeed it is, my lady. Quite late. But, I was never one for following rules or regulations."  
  
Diomis moved closer, forcing Onara to retreat until her back was pressed against the door. Now the fear was like a vise around her throat. Would Diomis be so ruthless, so callous as to come and kill Obi-Wan while he lay helpless in his hospital bed? And what would it accomplish? He had surrendered the challenge. Killing Obi-Wan would not undo that. Then her heart thudded in her chest. Perhaps it was revenge he sought.  
  
"You're trembling, my lady." Diomis loomed over her, his eyes holding her captive as if he were a predator and she his prey. "Are you cold?"  
  
"What do you want, Diomis?"  
  
"I told you. To see you. And the Jedi."  
  
"You can't see him. I won't let you see him."  
  
Diomis stared at her. Then understanding flared in his bronze-colored eyes. He nodded and stepped back, allowing Onara a chance to release the breath she'd been holding.  
  
"You think I've come to harm your Jedi."  
  
"Haven't you?" The words slipped out before Onara could stop them.  
  
Diomis looked glumly at her. "You must not think much of me, my lady, if you imagine me to be so malevolent as to do mischief to an injured man."  
  
Onara wanted to say she tried not to think of him at all, but she remained silent. Diomis stared at her, then his glance fell upon the tray she was holding. He reached over and took the tin cover off the plate. She couldn't help noticing how big his hand was. He could easily wrap it around her throat.  
  
"You eat like a bird, my lady." His eyes raked over her body. "But that must be how you keep such a lovely figure." He put the cover back on the plate.  
  
Onara bristled. "I find your words most inappropriate, Lord Diomis. As I do your presence. I would ask that you please leave. Now."  
  
"But don't you want to hear what I have to say? I've come so far to see you."  
  
Onara shook her head no, then she glanced up and down the hall. It was deserted. She wished she hadn't sent the others away, but they had all looked so tired. Even Zaka. A cot had been brought to Obi-Wan's room and no one, not even Simtro, had argued with her when she informed them she was going to stay the night at the hospital.  
  
Diomis looked deep into her eyes. "Please, my lady. I beg you. Hear me out."  
  
Onara gazed up at him and found herself aware not only of his large, muscular body, but of the cologne he was wearing. It was heavy and masculine and made her dizzy. Diomis leaned closer, his voice low and throbbing.  
  
"I swear to you, Onara, I did not come here to do violence to you or your beloved."  
  
Onara stared wide-eyed at him. He nodded at her expression. "He is your beloved, is he not? The one you love with all your heart, the only one you love? Married twice, yet never for love. Such a pity. But now, finally, you can marry for love. It must fill you with great gladness."  
  
"What do you want?" Onara's words, torn from her trembling throat, hovered in the air between them.  
  
Diomis moved closer until his broad chest pressed against the tray Onara still held in front of her. He was now so close she could see the fine lines alongside his copper-colored eyes and wide, firm mouth. His scent surrounded her, filling her head until she thought she was going to faint.  
  
She pushed the tray against him, trying to force him back and away from the door through which Obi-Wan lay asleep, so helpless, so vulnerable. She cursed herself for being so weak, so frightened.  
  
Diomis grinned at her, and she saw in his eyes that he knew how afraid she was, but she would die before she let him harm Obi-Wan. He took a step back as Onara pushed the tray hard against his chest. Then, with a movement both swift and unexpected, he took the tray from her.  
  
Onara tried to grab it, but Diomis, laughing as he did so, kept it up and out of her reach. Onara felt perfectly silly as she jumped, trying to take the tray from him. Anger, hot and fierce, flooded through her. She ceased her jumping, then stomped hard on Diomis' instep. He howled, nearly dropping the tray. Onara took it from him as he hopped about on one foot.  
  
"You little minx!" He glowered at her, his face mottled with anger.  
  
Onara moved back in front of Obi-Wan's door. If Diomis came at her she would throw the tray at him, food and all. He continued to glare at her as he gingerly lowered his foot, testing it against the floor. Then he suddenly smiled, admiration replacing the anger in his eyes.  
  
"Spirit, wealth and beauty. My nephew was a lucky man. As is the Jedi. May I see him now?"  
  
Onara couldn't believe her ears. Was he mad?  
  
"No, you may not." She lifted her chin, wiling herself to present a brave front despite the fear scrabbling at her throat. "He's sleeping and even if he were awake I wouldn't let you anywhere near him."  
  
"Why not? I told you I didn't come here to harm him."  
  
"How do I know that? You seemed to have no qualms about your son stabbing him with a sword."  
  
"Ah, but that is what I've come to speak to you about."  
  
"Speak?" Onara scoffed, her eyes flaring, convinced that talking was the last thing Diomis wanted to do. "Speak of what?"  
  
"Of what happened today in the arena. Haven't you wondered why I surrendered the challenge when it was clear Gend had won?"  
  
Onara had wondered, but her feelings had been so centered on Obi-Wan and his recovery she hadn't give it much thought. She looked at Diomis, but remained silent.  
  
"That is why I have come. To tell you." He reached out to her, offering his hand. "Consider it my wedding gift."  
  
Onara stared at his huge hand, wondering if he really expected her to take it. Her instinct was to smash it with her tray, hopefully breaking his thick fingers, but then she looked up and into his eyes and was surprised to see something she had not expected to see. She saw sincerity.  
  
"Please, my lady, I swear to you. I do not mean you or your beloved any harm. I only wish to give you this gift of information. And, then, I hope, once you have gauged the genuineness of what I say, you will then deign to listen to a few propositions I wish to discuss with you."  
  
"Propositions?"  
  
Diomis nodded. "Business propositions."  
  
"This hardly seems the proper time to discuss business----"  
  
The sound of heavy, pounding feet and a loud snarl drew Onara's attention from Diomis. She turned and was surprised to see Zaka running towards her. Then, when she saw the look on his long furred face, she was more than surprised, she was shocked.  
  
Rage filled Zaka's long black eyes and his white, sharp teeth were clearly visible as he drew closer. He's gone mad, Onara thought, having reverted, for some unknown reason, back to his natural predator behavior. Then she found herself imaging how it would feel when his teeth sank into her throat, his claws ripping open her flesh.  
  
But Zaka ignored her. The Whiphid, towering over Diomis, who was not a small man, threw his arms around him and easily lifted him off the floor.  
  
"Zaka, no!" Onara dropped the tray. It clattered to the floor, the food spilling off the plate.  
  
Zaka roared as he held the struggling Diomis in his arms. Onara grabbed his huge, furry arm, tugging frantically on it. "Zaka, no, stop. Put him down. Put him down!"  
  
Zaka's arms tightened around Diomis. "Not let you hurt Nara. Not let you hurt Je-di. Zaka not let you hurt them."  
  
Diomis, who was shouting with both fear and anger, tried to free himself but the Whiphid had him in a bone- crushing hold.  
  
"Zaka, please, please, let him go." Onara tugged harder on the Whiphid's arm.  
  
"Do as she says and let him go, ya big lunkhead."  
  
Onara turned as Auna ran up to them. She grabbed Zaka's other arm and tugged on it with all four of her hands. As the two women struggled to free Diomis from Zaka, Onara heard other footsteps coming from both sides of the hallway. Two female nurses ran towards the melee. Then, hearing more footsteps, Onara saw Inida, Obi-Wan's physician come racing around a corner. She stopped and stared.  
  
"What in the name of all that's holy is going on here?"  
  
Onara wanted to answer her, but she kept her attention on Zaka, still pulling on his arm. Diomis' broad face was now a deep red and he seemed to be having trouble breathing.  
  
"Let him go, ya peabrain! Let him go now!"  
  
Auna reached up---and it was quite a reach for Zaka was nearly two meters tall---and tugged him hard on his ear. Onara wasn't sure such a strategy would work, but the Whiphid suddenly released Diomis.  
  
He fell to the floor, groaning loudly. Inida quickly pulled a medscanner out of the pocket of her tunic and ran it over him.  
  
"You're all right, my lord." She snapped the medscanner closed and slipped it back into her pocket. "You've suffered no injury."  
  
Diomis grunted as she and the nurses helped him to his feet. "Are you sure about that?"  
  
Inida nodded. Diomis looked over at Zaka. The Whiphid stood between Onara and Auna. Both women were holding him by the arms.  
  
Diomis stared at them as he rubbed his left shoulder. Then he inclined his head at Onara. "I compliment you, my lady. A most effective bodyguard."  
  
Onara frowned at Diomis, moving her hand soothingly over the thick fur on Zaka's arm. "He's not my bodyguard. He's my friend."  
  
"That's even better. A most loyal and dutiful friend to not even question the situation you were in, but to spring so nobly and so swiftly to your defense."  
  
Onara wasn't sure if Diomis was being sincere or sarcastic. As for Zaka, he had behaved in a way she had never seen before. Not once since he'd arrived on Ahjane had he ever raised his voice, displayed any kind of anger or acted violently. She didn't even know what had made him come back into the hospital. But, she had to admit, she was glad he had done so.  
  
Inida glanced between Onara and Diomis. "My lady, what is going on? This is a hospital, after all."  
  
"I'm sorry." Onara squeezed Zaka's arm. He looked down at her, his placid expression back on his face. "My friend thought I was being harmed."  
  
"Harmed?" Inida glanced over at Zaka, than at Diomis. He only shrugged, then shook his head as if questioning the behavior of all aliens. Inida looked back at Onara.  
  
"Be that as it may, my lady, we must have quiet here. There are patients on this floor who need their rest."  
  
"Of course. Forgive us." Onara looked over at Auna and indicated with her eyes that she should take Zaka out of the hospital. Auna nodded, but just as she was about to leave, she stopped and frowned at Diomis.  
  
"I think ya better come with us, my lord." Her voice dripped heavily with scorn, her violet eyes seething.  
  
"I shall do no such thing. As I tried to tell Lady Onara before we were interrupted by your hairy companion, I did not come here to inflict harm upon her or the Jedi. I have no hidden agenda, no veiled motives. My only desire is to give Onara a wedding gift."  
  
"A wedding gift?" Auna sniffed suspiciously as if she smelled something foul.  
  
Onara looked over at her. "He was about to tell me why he surrendered the challenge this morning."  
  
At Onara's words both of the nurses and Inida perked up. Onara sighed. She'd forgotten that a report of the challenge had been broadcast around Ahjane. Although the actual fight had not been seen by the general populace, judging by the avid, curious expressions on the nurses' and Inida's faces, it seemed to be the topic of note.  
  
"Really?" Auna crossed her upper two arms across her chest and placed the hands of her lower arms on her slender hips as she stared hotly at Diomis. "Well, cough it up. Why did ya surrender?"  
  
Diomis, aware he now had a captive audience, only smiled slyly, wanting to draw out, Onara saw, the expectation.  
  
"Well?" Auna brusquely waved her upper two arms. "Why'd ya do it?"  
  
Diomis ignored her. "If I tell you, Lady Onara, will you agree, at a more appropriate time, of course, to speak with me regarding my propositions?"  
  
"If it's a wedding gift, why does she have to bargain with ya for it?"  
  
Diomis looked over at Auna, a shrewd expression on his broad face. "You're right. I did say it was a gift, didn't I." He turned back to Onara. "I hope after you hear what I have to say you will consider speaking with me at some point."  
  
"When Obi-Wan is strong enough, he and I will marry. Then you may speak with us both."  
  
Diomis inclined his head. "Fair enough." He looked over at Auna, surprising Onara by winking at the Codru-Ji woman. Auna only frowned harder at him. He turned back to Onara "I surrendered the challenge because Gend defeated your Jedi unfairly."  
  
"Unfairly. How?"  
  
"A weapon was used that immobilized him long enough for Gend to strike."  
  
Auna hissed, her four hands balling into fists. Inida and the nurses drew in sharp, surprised breaths. Onara felt both shock and anger, but she quickly suppressed her feelings as she looked over at Zaka, fearful he would attack Diomis again, but the Whiphid only stared placidly at him. She looked back at Diomis.  
  
"Who used this weapon against Obi-Wan?"  
  
Diomis shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It was used. That's all you need to know. The rest is my concern."  
  
Auna advanced on Diomis. "How do we know ya didn't have something to do with it?"  
  
"If I'd had something to do with it, why would I have surrendered the challenge?" Diomis shook his head again. "I would have kept silent, Gend would have won, no one would have been the wiser, the Jedi would now be dead and Onara," and he looked over at her, a sudden predatory look glinting in his eyes, "would be preparing herself to become my son's wife."  
  
Auna angrily shook her head, her violet eyes burning. "I don't believe ya! I don't believe any of it!"  
  
"It doesn't matter if you don't believe me." Diomis looked over at Onara, his eyes locked on hers. "It only matters if she believes me."  
  
Onara swallowed. A part of her didn't trust Diomis any farther than she could throw him, but another part sensed he was telling the truth. She wished Obi-Wan was awake. He would be able to tell if Diomis was being truthful. She sighed. She would have to rely on her own judgment and intuition for now.  
  
"I believe him." Onara then suppressed a smile as the nurses and Inida nodded in agreement with her.  
  
Diomis extended his hand. Onara took it, noting the coarseness and barely suppressed violence of his big fingers and wide palm. She trembled despite telling herself not to. He leaned over and brushed his lips across the back of her hand. Onara shivered. Then he rose and gazed at her, his hand still clasping hers.  
  
"Thank you, my lady, for believing me. And may I sincerely offer my deepest apology to you and your Jedi for this treachery. I swear to you on my mother's soul that I had nothing to do with it."  
  
Onara inclined her head, but said nothing. Diomis released her hand. He graced the nurses, Inida, Auna and even Zaka with a bow and a wide smile. Then he turned and strode down the hallway. Onara heard one of the nurses sigh dreamily as he disappeared around a corner. She looked over at Inida.  
  
"I hope this doesn't mean I can't stay the night."  
  
Inida smiled and took her arm, squeezing it gently. "Of course you can stay, my lady. But, please, no more disruptions."  
  
Onara returned her smile. "I promise." She looked down at the dropped tray and spilled food.  
  
Inida followed her gaze. "I'll get someone to clean that up. And I'll have someone bring you more food."  
  
"Thank you." Onara then turned to Auna and Zaka as Inida and the nurses walked away.  
  
"No, my lady, no, ya can't be serious about believing Diomis."  
  
"I do believe him, Auna. And it makes sense, doesn't it? Obi-Wan clearly had the advantage in the challenge."  
  
Then Onara felt a twinge of pain. If only he had killed Gend when he'd had the chance. He wouldn't have been hurt and nearly died. But if he had killed Gend would the damage inflicted upon his soul as a result of his action have proven more perilous than the physical wound he ultimately suffered?  
  
Auna's voice broke into Onara's musing. "I still don't like it. Diomis is a sneaky, tricky, two-faced snake. And I don't trust him. I don't trust him not one bit."  
  
Onara laughed softly. "Neither do I."  
  
Auna's violet eyes glittered. "He wants something."  
  
"Of course he does." Onara released a heavy sigh. "But I'll not concern myself with Diomis or his plans anymore this night. Now, I want the both of you to go home and get some rest."  
  
Auna's eyes widened. "What? And leave ya hear alone? What if Diomis comes back?"  
  
"He won't."  
  
"How do ya know?"  
  
"Because he got what he came for."  
  
"And what's that?"  
  
"He got me to believe him."  
  
Auna stared at Onara, then shrugged, but wearily for she was clearly tired. "I can't say I understand yar thinking. But ya know these Lenors better than most I suppose. I still think me or Zaka ought to stay here with ya."  
  
Onara shook her head. "Go home, both of you. You can return in the morning. I'll be all right. Diomis won't come back."  
  
And she was certain he would not return, but Auna was right. He could not be trusted, but she could not forget he had saved Obi-Wan's life by surrendering the challenge when he did, and at the cost of all he had hoped to achieve through her marriage to Gend. But there was also no doubt he wanted something from her, but what it was and when he would come to collect it, Onara did not know.  
  
She finally convinced Zaka and Auna to go back to the manor and, once a custodian came and cleaned up the mess in the hall and a nurse brought her a fresh tray of food, she went into Obi-Wan's room.  
  
She placed the tray on a table next to her cot. Then she walked over to Obi- Wan's bed, placing her hand on his soft, red-gold hair, gently stroking the white streaks at the temple. He had been sleeping, but he stirred at her touch, slowly opening his eyes.  
  
"Onara, love." His voice was low and full of slumber. "Heard Zaka...roaring. Dream...I guess."  
  
"Yes, love. Only a dream." She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Rest now, my darling. Rest."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, closing his eyes. She watched until she was certain he was deeply asleep. Then she sat and ate her food. Once she was done, she went back to Obi-Wan's bed. She kissed him goodnight, then lay down on the cot, pulling the blanket over her shoulders, and, as soon as her head touched the pillow, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
To be continued.... 


	21. Part TwentyOne

In Love and War - Chapter Twenty- One  
  
--------------  
  
Jiah cursed softly under her breath as she gingerly applied icing to the cake. Normally she would have wanted to spend weeks planning and baking a wedding cake, especially for the wedding of her beloved mistress, but time was now of the essence.  
  
"You missed a spot."  
  
Jiah pursed her lips, keeping her attention on the cake and ignoring Malari. The younger woman leaned closer.  
  
"Watch it." Her voice sharp, Jiah flashed a warning look as Malari almost jostled her arm.  
  
Malari stepped back, her broad, wholesome face flushing red under its patches of flour. "Sorry."  
  
Jiah released a soft sigh. "It's all right, Malari." She leaned away from the cake. "We're all a bit frazzled. Who would have thought Master Kenobi would heal so quickly." She shook her head in wonder. "A wound that should have killed him and he's healed of it in a week."  
  
"Well, he is a Jedi, after all. It's said they have magical powers."  
  
Jiah shrugged. "I wouldn't know about that. But, I do know I was sure I'd have at least a month, if not more, before he was well enough so that he and milady could marry. But what happens? He heals in a week and Onara decides she wants the wedding to be held the day after tomorrow."  
  
Malari giggled. Jiah flashed her a questioning look. "What's so funny?"  
  
"It looks to me that not only is Master Kenobi eager, and perhaps that's why he healed so quickly, but so is Lady Onara."  
  
"Eager? Eager to do what?"  
  
Malari stared wide-eyed at Jiah as if the head cook had grown another head. "Do what? Why, snuggle into the marriage bed, of course." A knowing look fell across the assistant cook's florid face. "And I don't blame milady for wanting to get that one between the sheets as quickly as possible."  
  
Jiah waved a floured hand at her, but she was used to the younger woman's suggestive comments. "Really, Malari."  
  
Malari grinned at her. "Even you can't have grown so old and cold in the blood that you can't appreciate Master Kenobi's _assets_." Then she winked at the head cook.  
  
Jiah put her hands on her broad hips and confronted Malari. "I'm not that old I'll have you know, and, although it's been years since I laid my poor, dear husband to rest, Sithara bless and keep him until I join him in the House of Eternal Light, there's still blood in my veins and it can run just as hot and quick as yours. So, to answer your question, yes, I can and do appreciate Master Kenobi's assets as you call them, but I've got work to do and so do you. So let's get to it."  
  
Malari reared back, fearful she'd offended Jiah. Then she saw a twinkle in the head cook's eyes and relaxed. The two shared a laugh. Then, apparently unwilling to leave the subject of Obi-Wan alone, Malari leaned close to Jiah.  
  
"Is it true Master Kenobi refused to participate in the blessing ceremony when Lady Onara married Edress?"  
  
Jiah, who had returned to her cake decorating, nodded. "Put up quite the fuss he did."  
  
"But why? It's a great honor to be asked."  
  
"You'll have to ask him."  
  
"Oh, no, oh no, I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing."  
  
Jiah's mouth curled up in a smile. Although Malari, like most of the young servant women in the manor, found the Jedi very attractive and was not adverse to gossiping about him when he wasn't around, as soon as he appeared Malari, and the rest, became as witless as geese.  
  
Jiah shrugged at Malari's words. "Then you'll just have to remain in the dark as to why he didn't want to participate in the ceremony. But, neither did Lady Onara."  
  
"Truly?"  
  
Jiah nodded. "Put up as much a fuss as he did. And Lady Tsara was fit to be tied at her refusal to go through with it. She ranted and raved about the manor like a zalot in labor, cursing and threatening the poor girl with words that would chill your blood. But, she'd always been unkind to Onara. From the day she was born."  
  
Malari shuddered at the mention of Onara's grandmother. Although she had not been employed at the manor when Lady Tsara was alive, the story of the old dragon's machinations, which had resulted not only in the unexpected and unsanctioned birth of her great-grandson, but the murder of her own son, Dynast K'lia, by the Red Tide she had hired to kidnap Ben, was legend about the manor.  
  
"But they did finally perform the ceremony?"  
  
Jiah smiled. "Of course they did. And they both fell in love that very night, but only to be parted the following morning." She released a heavy, sad sigh. "So much grief and pain has flowed from that night." She clucked her tongue. "My poor, poor lady. First her father, then her husband and sweet little one. All murdered. All dead." She wiped at her eyes.  
  
Malari touched Jiah's arm. "I've heard Ben was a lovely child."  
  
The head cook sniffed, nodded and returned to her decorating. "That he was. That he was. But...," and with a deep, satisfied release of her breath she finished the cake "....with this wedding, hopefully, my lady will finally have some lasting happiness and, best of all, there will once more be the sound of children in this house."  
  
Malari nodded in agreement, a wide smile on her broad face.  
  
-----------  
  
"But I don't want to be Dynast."  
  
"Really, Obi-Wan, you sound just like a little boy. And whining doesn't become you. And if you don't stop fidgeting you're going to get pricked."  
  
Obi-Wan looked over at Onara who was sitting on a cream-colored divan, her dark eyes sparkling with delight. The two, along with a tailor who was making adjustments to Obi-Wan's wedding coat and trousers, were in his chambers. The wedding was the day after tomorrow, and Obi-Wan was so nervous the butterflies in his stomach felt like hawk-bats, whipping about his insides with sharp, thick wings.  
  
"If I sound like I'm whining, I don't mean to, but why is it that I didn't find out until today that by marrying you I become Dynast."  
  
Onara tilted her head, smiling winsomely at him. "Because you didn't ask."  
  
Obi-Wan released a heavy sigh. Come to think of it, he supposed he hadn't really thought about it. He'd assumed that upon marrying Onara he'd become her consort or something, but why he would think such a thing since he was well aware only men were allowed to rule on Ahjane, he had no idea. Then he grimaced as he felt a pin pierce his left leg.  
  
The tailor, who was kneeling at Obi-Wan's feet as he adjusted the trousers, looked up. "Forgive me, my lord."  
  
Obi-Wan looked over at Onara. "See, that's what I mean. He just called me my lord. I'm not a my lord."  
  
Onara smiled fondly at his outraged expression. "But you are, my love. You are the absolute ruler and supreme lord of my heart."  
  
Obi-Wan's own heart softened at Onara's words. He gazed at her, wanting so much take her in his arms and shower her with kisses.  
  
"And also of my province." Onara's dark eyes twinkled. "The day after tomorrow you will become Dynast Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I shall be yours and so will all that I possess."  
  
Obi-Wan shook his head. A Dynast? That didn't sound like him at all. Onara must have noted his expression for she rose from the divan and walked over to him. She placed a hand on his arm, her expression anxious as she looked up at him.  
  
"Does it truly displease you, my love, the thought of being Dynast?"  
  
"What? No, not at all. It's just...." Obi-Wan sighed. "I don't know the first thing about being a Dynast."  
  
Onara's troubled expression was quickly replaced by a wide smile. "Oh, is that all? Don't worry. Simtro and I will help you. But, as far as I'm concerned, you already are a Dynast. You're noble and strong, just and compassionate. Fitting qualities for a ruler, don't you think?"  
  
Obi-Wan smiled and, leaning over, kissed Onara's cheek. Then he hissed as another pin pricked his leg.  
  
"Sorry, my lord."  
  
"It's all right. My fault."  
  
Obi-Wan looked back at Onara, her perfume filling his senses, her nearness stirring the heat in his blood. Then he drew in a sharp gasp as she slowly ran the tip of her finger down his chest, which was bare underneath the wedding coat, her dark eyes gazing passionately up at him and, wherever she touched him, flames erupted on his skin. He leaned down to kiss her again and was rewarded with another pin prick.  
  
"Perhaps, my lord, it would best if Lady Onara were to move back."  
  
Onara laughed and stepped away. She returned to the divan and watched as the tailor finished his adjustments of the trousers and coat. Obi-Wan looked over at her. He had yet to tell her about his dream or vision---for he wasn't sure what to call what had happened to him---regarding his parents, Qui-Gon and Ben.  
  
But, whatever it had been, he had decided not to tell her of it. She'd been so happy over his quick recovery, and was now so full of excitement regarding their upcoming wedding that he had not wanted to darken her joy with reminders of Ben. After they were married he would tell her. Then he was reminded of something he'd wanted to ask her.  
  
"Onara, how is it that you know how I'm going to look on our wedding day, but I have no idea how you're going to look? I've yet to see your dress."  
  
Onara flashed him a teasing smile. "And you won't. Not until the wedding."  
  
"It hardly seems fair."  
  
"Oh, it's not, not at all." Onara then dimpled as Obi-Wan began to protest. "But it's a woman's prerogative to keep her wedding dress a secret from her husband-to-be, so you'll just have to wait."  
  
Obi-Wan wondered if she was going to be heavily veiled, the way she'd been when she married Edress. He was about to ask her, but she must have seen the look on his face, for she shook her head in a warning fashion.  
  
"Don't even think about it. I'm not telling you what my dress looks like. You'll have to wait until the wedding."  
  
Obi-Wan released a sigh, them made himself stand still as the tailor completed his adjustments. Once he was done, he went behind a screen and carefully removed the wedding clothing, which he handed to the tailor. He then put back on the tunic and pants he'd been wearing.  
  
Stepping from behind the screen he saw the tailor was on his way out of the chamber, assuring Onara he would have everything done in time for the wedding. Then, just as he was walking out, Simtro walked in, quickly passing him.  
  
"Milady, milord." He bowed to both Onara and Obi-Wan.  
  
Obi-Wan suppressed a grimace. He wasn't officially going to become a Dynast until the wedding but everyone in the manor was already treating him like one.  
  
Onara walked over to the major-domo. "Simtro, what's wrong?"  
  
Obi-Wan looked closer at Simtro and saw an anxious expression on his weathered face.  
  
"There's someone here, milady. To see Master Kenobi."  
  
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "To see me? Who?"  
  
"It might be best, milord, if you came and saw for yourself."  
  
Obi-Wan and Onara exchanged a look. Offering her his arm, Obi-Wan followed Simtro out of his chamber, down the hall and to the wide staircase that led to the foyer. Then, when he saw who it was, he flew down the stairs, Onara behind him.  
  
"Anakin!"  
  
Anakin stood just inside the manor's entryway. As Obi-Wan drew closer he saw his former padawan's robe and clothing were dusty and splattered with mud, his face drawn and pale as if he hadn't slept in days. But there was no mistaking the warm happiness in those bright blue eyes, despite the dark shadows under them.  
  
"Master! You're alive. You're all right."  
  
"What, by the Ancients, are you doing here, Anakin?"  
  
Anakin stared at him, his blue, somewhat feverish gaze seeming to drink Obi- Wan in. "You're alive, Master. You're all right."  
  
Then, with those repetitive, gladsome words, Anakin suddenly fell to the floor. Obi-Wan's heart lurched in his chest as he quickly knelt next to him, placing his fingers on Anakin's neck. There was a pulse, steady and strong.  
  
He looked up at the major-domo. "Simtro, get help."  
  
Simtro turned and hurried away. Onara knelt next to Anakin and took his hand. "Is he all right?"  
  
Obi-Wan reached out with the Force and enveloped it around Anakin, closing his eyes as he focused. Then he opened them. "He doesn't appear injured. Just exhausted."  
  
Onara patted Anakin's hand. "Poor thing. When Simtro returns I'll have him send for a physician."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, then looked back at Anakin. What had driven his former padawan to such desperate measures as to come to Ahjane? And where was Master Nygee? As he stroked Anakin's hair a wave of guilt washed over him and he couldn't help feeling that, somehow, this was all his fault.  
  
He leaned closer, his voice low and soothing. "Don't worry, Padawan. I'm here. I'm here."  
  
To be continued.... 


End file.
